Surface Land Adventures
by Spades And Swords
Summary: Drabbles about the daily shenanigans of JimBob and the crew of The Trusty Slab. Based on the SpongeBob's Big Birthday Blowout's live action segment.
1. A-N

_**This fic was inspired by the SpongeBob's 20th anniversary special. I loved the live-action part, but I felt it was too short. The episode was still good though. Anyway, I hope you like the story. I might make a second part with the remaining letters of the alphabet. By the way, these are the names used in the episode for the live action counterparts:**_

_**SpongeBob- JimBob**_

_** Mr. Krabs - Mr. Slabs**_

_**Squidward- Mr. Manward**_

_**Plankton- Mr. Charleston**_

_**The Krusty Krab- The Trusty Slab**_

_**Karen, Patrick and Sandy have the same names.**_

_**Thanks for reading!**_

* * *

_ **Assignment** _

"JimBob!"

"Yes sir!"

"Put down your hand, boy. This isn't the army." Mr. Slabs folded his arms as JimBob's smile faded. "And you should be thankful about that, because you wouldn't have lasted a day in it! And you won't last a day more in me restaurant unless you explain this moment why you were giving our Slabby Patties for free!"

"Sir, I was just doing what you told me." JimBob shrugged.

"I don't recall telling you to make me business go bankrupt, boy."

"You said my only assignment was to make sure all costumers left satisfied and with a big smile on their faces. And I can tell you they all did. One of them even kissed me in the cheek. Oh, Sandy…" JimBob said dreamily as he caressed the lipstick mark on his cheek.

Mr. Slabs rolled his eyes.

"I knew I should have hired that Bobby Bass guy instead." He sighed while JimBob continued to daydream and babble about that Sandy girl. "This is what I get for not asking for references."

_ **Basket** _

"Oh no, you can't be serious. Please tell me you won't call it that."

"Quiet, long-distance wife! The Crumb Basket is a perfect name for our restaurant."

"Of course, said no one ever."

"Said everyone always." Charleston made a long pause, his hands firmly pressing his headphones against his ears. "Besides, I've already paid for it to be a trademark, so…"

"I can't believe I actually lent you all my lifesavings to open that fiasco."

"Have a little faith, Karen. Our business will be a great success. It's not as if Slabs named his restaurant any better. The Trusty Slab… sounds like cheap adult film. Trust me, those morons from the gorilla mask company will love our crumbs!"

"What even are crumbs in the first place? I didn't get it when you explained it to me last week."

"It's a family recipe." Charleston put the microphone from his headphones closer to his lips and whispered. "I could explain it better if we, you know, met in person."

"Oh." Karen said. "Do we have to? I mean, we are already married."

"Yeah, but it would be nice to see your face at least once. Sometimes I feel like I'm married to these headphones instead of you."

"I could say the same thing." Karen replied, a little nervous. "It's not as if I knew what you look like either, you know."

"Long distance marriages are weird." Charleston said.

"Remember our wedding? I love the avatar you chose to show on your screen."

"Yours looked beautiful too, honey. When our screens touched after the priest said we could kiss each other, it was the best moment of my life."

"Oh, Charleston…"

"Oh, Karen…"

"The Crumb Basket is still a stupid name, though."

"Wow." Charleston said, loosening his grip on his headphones. "Mood killer much?"

_ **Couple** _

"Manward!"

"Heavens, JimBob!" Manward complained after JimBob hugged him from behind. The fry cook was crying in his shoulder, soaking it with his tears. "Get off me and get back into the kitchen, you idiot. If Mr. Slabs sees you here, he'll fire you! …On second thought, you can stay here all the time you want."

"I saw her!" JimBob cried**. **"Talking with that pirate guy, Thatchy! They are a couple!"

"It's Patchy, fool." Manward returned his attention to the newspaper. "And stop crying! He only asked her the time."

JimBob's tears stopped flowing in an instant. "Really?"

"Yes."

JimBob rubbed his eyes and started laughing. Manward had to restrain himself from ripping the newspaper into half.

"And here I thought he had proposed to her!" JimBob gave Manward a slap in the back. "This means I still have a chance with Sandy. Manward, do you think you could cover for me tomorrow? If I'm lucky, I'll be going on a date."

"No."

"Thanks! You are a good friend."

JimBob returned to the kitchen. He was mumbling his options of the places he could invite Sandy to.

"Dammit." Manward quickly skimmed through the newspaper's pages until he found the employment section. "I knew I should have gone to college."

_ **Dinner** _

"JimBob, I want to thank you for inviting me on a date. I´m having a great time."

"I'm happy to hear that, Sandy. Thank you for accepting to go out with me."

"Just one thing." Sandy pointed at the big fellow with bed hair sitting next to JimBob. He was engulfing chicken wings faster than he could chew them. "Why did Patrick come too?"

JimBob smiled and put an arm around Patrick's shoulders. "Oh, he loves chicken wings. He's been a regular to the Trusty Slab's Chicken Wing Wednesdays Nights since we opened."

Sandy tilted her head. "That doesn't really answer my question…"

She was interrupted by Mr. Slabs' voice.

"Alright, wing lovers. It's time to see who can make an art out of eating chicken wings. Tonight's winner will receive…"

"The Secret Sauce Recipe!"

"Exactly! Wait, Charleston?"

"Uh-oh."

The wimpy guy dressed completely in green started running as Mr. Slabs went after him with a broom in hand. "How many times must I tell you to stay out of me restaurant?!"

_Well._ Sandy thought as JimBob laughed at the sight of his boss chasing after his nemesis. _At least he's having fun, and I am too. But next time, JimBob, please don't bring Patrick. Or if you must, please teach him how to use a napkin first…_

_ **Eye.** _

_Hi, this is Karen. If you're hearing this, I can't answer your call because I'm either too busy or because quite frankly I don't want to talk to you because a) you´re boring, b) you're stupid, or c) both. Please leave your message and don't expect a quick answer. I have a life, you know._

"Karen, it's me, your long-distance husband. I love your voice mail message. You wouldn't mind if I copy it, would you?" Charleston said with love. "Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that I received your gift. Cool glasses! I'm wearing them right now. They must have costed a fortune. Or at least five bucks…"

Charleston laughed. His vision was so blurry he was starting to get dizzy. It was a habit of Karen's to send him new glasses once every three months.

_When I told you I had vision problems, this isn't exactly what I meant._ He thought, wishing to have the courage to tell his long-distance wife about his only eye. _I can't do that! What if she doesn't like me anymore? It's not as if she has to know… and I like these glasses she sends me, even if they are as useful to me as a sweater in summer!_

"By the way, our business is doing great! I told you The Crumb Basket would be a hit."

How many lies could he tell in one phone call?

Two, apparently.

"It's not lying if you do it with good intentions, right?" he laughed. "Wait, did I just say that out loud?"

_Voice Message saved._

"Oh, shi—"

_ **French** _

"…and does he live in a pineapple under the sea?

"_Oui, mon ami."_

"Wow, that's adorable."

"He is one lively sponge. A little silly and nerve wrecking, but noble and kind. He reminds me of you, JimBob."

"Thanks, Frenchy."

Manward rolled his eyes as the other two men continued to talk on a nearby table. "At least the nerve wrecking part is accurate." He said under his breath, followed by a snorty chuckle.

"There's also this octopus. Conceited, bitter, very practical, and yet artistic like no other." Frenchy looked at Manward. His face was concealed by his big diving helmet "Does he remind you of anyone, Manward?"

"I—I'm not artistic! What gave you that idea?" Manward hid his colored face behind the newspaper. "And I´m not bitter!"

"I never said you were." Frenchy and JimBob laughed.

"Don't you have somewhere else to be?" Manward snapped at Frenchy.

"_Mon Dieu_, you´re right. I better get back to work. Those sea creatures don't study themselves, you know." He stood up and stretched. "Thanks for the food, gentlemen. I'll be back tomorrow. By the way, would you like a picture of your sea creature counterparts?"

"Yes!"

"No."

"Alright! I'll give them to you tomorrow. _Au revoir_." Frenchy went to the exit, where he almost crashed against Mr. Slabs. "Sorry, Mr. Krabs."

"What did you call me?" Mr. Slabs arched an eyebrow.

"Oh, that's just the French word for very dashing fellow." Frenchy said awkwardly. "Bye now!"

With that, he went running down the street at an amazing speed.

"I don't know French, but I don't think that's what Krabs means in that language…" Said Mr. Slabs.

"And I don't know how Frenchy can run so fast with that suit on. It must weight a ton!" Added JimBob as he watched how Frenchy disappeared into the distance.

"And I don't know what Frenchy smokes in order to come up with such stupid ideas, but I sure wish I had some of that for myself." Sighed Manward, now reading the newspaper's comic strips. "Intelligent creatures under the sea? A sponge that lives in a pineapple? An octopus that plays the clarinet? Please," he then said in a low voice that only he could hear ", everyone knows the tuba is a much more artistic instrument."

_ **Girlfriend** _

"Yes."

"I knew it. Can we at least still be friends—wait, you said yes?"

"I just did, JimBob."

JimBob's eyes gleamed with happiness. He started to jump and dance around Sandy, leaving dozes of footprints on the sand below them. "I have a girlfriend, I have a girlfriend, I have a girlfriend!"

"Okay, calm down JimBob." Sandy said, a little embarrassed by all the attention his new boyfriend was attracting toward them. Some of the beachgoers smiled and congratulated them. Sandy smiled back at them, a little mortified but also happy.

"I always knew you were made for each other." Said Patchy dreamily. He was sitting on a towel together with his parrot Potty.

"Thanks." Said Sandy. He good humor wavered when she noticed the cellphone on Patchy's hand "Wait, are you recording us?"

"Only a little."

"Stop that, it's creepy."

"Does that mean I can't share it on the internet?" asked a man recording them from a close by submarine.

"Frenchy, you too?" Now enraged, Sandy put on her karate gloves. "I guess I'll have to teach you two creepers a lesson!"

"Oh barnacles." Muttered Patchy just before Sandy tackled him.

"_Oui_," said a scared Frenchy as he got back into his submarine and started the engine "time for me to go on a travel of twenty thousand leagues under the sea. Rock Bottom, here I come!"

The submarine disappeared under the sea's surface. Meanwhile, JimBob continued to jump and dance. He was too immersed in his joy to notice how his new girlfriend was kicking Patchy's pirate butt with her special karate chops.

_ **Home** _

He heard something. He was sure it wasn't his imagination.

"Hello?" JimBob asked over his shoulder. "Listen, if you want to sell me something, I'm not interested."

"Dammit, I told you he wasn't interested." Said a man in a suit that came out from behind a trash can.

"Shut up and let's get out of here before he sues us for stalking him." Said another man to his colleague. They were gone before JimBob could ask them anything.

"Well, that takes care of it." Shrugged JimBob. He began whistling happily as he continued his way back to his home. He had only taken two steps when he heard the same noise again. "Enough! If you don't stop following me, I'll tell my girlfriend to kick both of your—"

The two sellers weren't there.

Instead, there was a tinny kitten. Its eyes were barely opened, and it had crashed against the trash can in a failed attempt to catch up with JimBob.

His heart shrunk on his chest.

"Come here, little guy." JimBob said as he picked the kitten and gently put him on his forearm. "For how long have you been following me? Where's your mom?"

The kitten mewed faintly.

JimBob searched, but there were no more animals around. He knew exactly what he had to do.

"Let's get you to the vet." He said to the kitten. "And then let's get you to your new home. My beloved pet. My Gary."

_ **Ice cream** _

"And how much for a pie?"

"Two dollars."

"That's too expensive. And how much for a brownie?"

"Two dollars."

"Now that's a more reasonable price. And how much for a—"

"Patrick, I'm going to tell you again what I tell you every Friday." Manward's veins palpitated on his forehead. "All desserts cost two dollars today. It's Sweet Two Dollar Friday, you moron!"

Patrick stared at Manward blankly and winked.

"Ah, " he snapped his fingers "I get it now."

"Good. Now let's try this again. What do you want to buy?" Manward gave him the fakest smile of his life.

"I'll like one cup of vanilla ice cream, please."

"That would be two dollars."

"Two dollars?" Patrick said, very offended. "What a ripoff!"

Something inside Manward broke. He screamed so loudly that even Charleston could hear him in the Crumb Basket while Karen was giving him an earful for lying to her about their restaurant being a success.

His scream even reached Frenchy, who was having a good time together with the weird creatures of Rock Bottom.

In the end, Manward's scream was so legendary that Mr. Slabs ended up renaming Sweet Two Dollar Friday in its honor, and was from then on known as "I Scream for Ice Cream Friday."

_ **Jail** _

_Hi, this is Karen. If you're hearing this, I can't answer your call because I'm either too busy or because quite frankly I don't want to talk to you because you are Charleston, my idiot long-distance husband. I'm still angry with you, you little liar. Don't leave me a message until you are honestly sorry for what you did. In other words, don't leave me a message ever again. By the way, I sent you another pair of glasses. Hope you like them. You twit._

"Karen, it's me. The twit." Charleston said with sharp sarcasm. "So this is the fourth message I've left you ever since I moved into my new…residence."

Charleston smiled at the guard staring at him. The officer didn't smile back.

"I've been here for a month now. How was I supposed to know that pointing a laser gun at civilians was such a serious crime? Society these days is too sensitive, I tell you. Anyway sweetie, I know you are angry with me for lying about The Crumb Basket, but you can't just leave me to rot here. Come on, sugar lips, you've got to help me. I don't really have anyone else…well, I do have my cousin Clem, but he is a fool."

"Okay Charleston, time's up." Said the officer as he walked toward him.

"Whatever, you idiot." Charleston muttered with disdain. "Well Karen, I'll call you again next week, that's how it works here in jail. I'd call you more often, but the brutes took away the headphones you gave to me. I swear I'm gonna blow this place to pieces if they have done anything to them!"

Charleston was forced to end his phone call when the guard hung up the phone and dragged him back to his cell.

"Oh boy." Charleston sighed, sitting on his uncomfortable bed. "Might as well get used to this life. It's not as if I'm getting out any time soon."

"Charleston!" another guard exclaimed as he threw a small package at his chest. "Someone sent this to you. Hard to believe even scum like you has loved ones."

"Well," Charleston said as he opened his package and the guard walked away ", that last part was unnecessary. Who could send me this? This better not be another one of your root beers, Clem."

He gasped when he discovered it wasn't one of his cousin's stupid gifts. Inside the package there was a new, shining pair of glasses. And not just any pair of glasses.

"The Invisibility Spectacles 3000!" Charleston gasped. "I thought they were banned by the government! Oh Karen, you never stop surprising me."

He laughed evilly as he put them on and waited for the guards to notice his absence and open his cell. He took the opportunity to sneak out of jail and back to the outside world.

Before he left, he searched for his headphones, and was happy to see they were undamaged.

"Yes, yes!" He said as he put them on. "I feel complete again! Watch out Slabs, because here I come!"

The officers didn't need to see Charleston to notice his presence. His screams and laughter were more than enough.

"Shouldn't we go after him?" asked the officer who had watched Charleston during his phone call to the officer who had delivered Charleston his package.

"And miss I Scream for Ice Cream Friday at The Trusty Slab?" he smiled at his colleague. "Not in a million years, friend."

_ **Kinship** _

"I can't get over the fact of how cute Gary's counterpart is." JimBob was almost crying by looking at the photo of the little snail with the pink shell. "He is almost as adorable as my own Gary! That SpongeBob guy and I have the same taste not only in clothes, but also in pets."

"This girl sure knows her stuff." Sandy said happily, holding a photo of a Squirrel wearing an astronaut suit and working on a jet pack, her latest science project. "And you say she is from Texas just like me, Frenchy?"

"_Oui_. And she is very proud and sensitive about it." Frenchy said. "Ah, I remember the day she beat the barnacles out of her friends for mocking Texas right in front of her face. Hilarious."

"Sounds like she is as sweet and peaceful as you, Cheeks." Manward said with mockery.

"She just has a temper." Sandy looked at him. "Just like your octopus Squidward."

"He is not my octopus. I honestly can't see why everyone thinks him and me are so alike. We have nothing in common."

"Let's see… You both are cashiers." Said Sandy.

"You are both handsome as heck." Added JimBob, which earned him a perplexed look from his girlfriend.

"True." Said Manward smugly.

"You are both grumpy." Continued Frenchy.

"You hate your jobs." Said Mr. Slabs, who until then had been totally focused on laughing at the photo of the famous Mr. Krabs. "I mean, it's obvious."

"You two are bald and have big noses."

"What? I'm not bald, and my nose is beautiful!" Manward said, touching his nose as if it was a piece of art crafted by the angels themselves. "Wait, what the hell are you doing here, Charleston? Weren't you in jail?"

"I _was_. Not anymore." Charleston said, taking off the Invisibility Spectacles 3000. "Those things were making me dizzy."

"Get out of here, you're ruining the moment with your idiotic attempt at stealing me recipe." Mr. Slabs ordered him.

"I don't care about your recipe!" Charleston said. He was gazing at the picture of a tiny green guy with one eye. "Who is this dashing devil? Is he… my sea creature counterpart?"

"_Oui_. His name is Plankton. Owner of the not so popular restaurant the Chum Bucket. Evil, and full of hot gas. Kind of pathetic too." Explained Frenchy.

"Like two peas in a pod." Said Mr. Slabs with cruelty, but instead of being angry or insulted, Charleston was fascinated.

"And who is the computer dancing with him?"

"Ah, that's Karen. His computer wife."

"Her name is Karen! Adorable!" Charleston snapped the picture from Frenchy's hand and pushed him out of his way. "So long, fools! I have to show these pictures to my wife. She'll love them so much she'll have to forgive me."

He ran off toward his deserted restaurant, laughing like a maniac.

"Charleston has a wife?" Asked Sandy.

"Yeah right, in his imagination." Scoffed Mr. Slabs after helping Frenchy back on his feet. "But forget about that fool. So Frenchy, can I keep this picture? I'm thinking about making Mr. Krabs the new mascot of The Trusty Slab! Kids love that kind of stuff, and where there are kids, there are parents with their pockets full of money!"

"Sure." Frenchy said, a bit unconvinced. "It's against my contract, but since you all loved them so much, you can keep them. Only with one condition, if I get fired, will you hire me?"

"Of course!" Said . "After all, we are going to need someone to wander around town wearing a Mr. Krabs' motley very soon."

"I have made a terrible mistake." Said Frenchy.

"Yes you have, buddy." Said Manward pretending to throw away Squidward's picture, but secretly putting it away on the pocket of his shirt. "Yes you have."

_ **Lazy** _

Patrick laughed after watching how another man got hit in the nuts with a coconut.

"I love this show!" He took another sip of his drink. He engulfed a handful of chipotle chips and stared at the television with his eyes half-closed. "Was there something I had to do today? Something about Frenchy showing us some photos or something?"

He tried to remember, but it was too much effort.

Even if he had tried for real, he would have become distracted by the man getting hit in the lower parts, this time with two coconuts.

"Whatever." Patrick shrugged. "I'll think about it tomorrow. Wait, think about what? I forgot."

_ **Message** _

Charleston committed _photoception_ and took a photo of the photo of the little plankton and the computer.

He sent it to Karen with a message that read,

_This could be us, but you are still angry with me. PS, her name is Karen too!_

He expected an immediate response. After all, how could anyone ignore a photo so cute?

After three hours of total silence, the answer to that question became clear. Her long-distance wife, that's who.

He tried to call her using his headphones, only to be received by her sarcastic voice mail message again.

He sighed and ended the call without leaving a new message.

"Looks like my long-distance wife is about to become my long-distance ex-wife." He sobbed, hiding his only eye behind his arms. "How do long-distance divorces work anyway? I hope they aren't too expensive…"

Suddenly, he received a call.

His heart skipped a beat.

He answered the call, pressing his headphones to his ears closer than ever.

"They could be us," Karen said to him before Charleston could mutter a word, "but you are a complete fool. And so am I, apparently. I just called you, didn't I? So in the end, I guess they really are us."

Charleston couldn't speak and began to cry uncontrollably.

"KAREN! I thought you were never going to call me again!" he said in between sobs.

"What can I say? I have a tender heart, it's my main weakness." Karen answered without malice. "Besides, I can't let you handle The Crumb Basket all by yourself again. See, this last month gave me plenty of time to think about this whole situation, and I realized that I didn't really help you manage it at all. In a way, it's also my fault the place is such a failure. I'm sorry I wasn't as committed to it as I should have been."

"Does that…does that mean you'll come to live together with me?" Said Charleston, half excited, half scared. He and Karen had never looked at each other's faces. Their reunion was something he wasn't ready for.

"No." Answered Karen. "However, I'll try to call you more frequently, and answer your calls whenever you call me. I'll also be here whenever you go and try to steal Slab's secret sauce recipe. I'll be the rational voice inside your mind that you so obviously lack."

"It will be just like our first dates together." Said Charleston with nostalgia.

"In a way, yes." Karen chuckled. "Well then, let's try our best to make The Crumb Basket the best restaurant in town!"

"Yes, ma'am!" Charleston exclaimed. As it always happened whenever he felt extremely happy, he had a fit of evil laughter.

This time, Karen joined him.

_ **New Day** _

"STOP RIGHT THERE, YOU STINKY THIEF!"

"Karen, he's right behind me! What do I do?"

"Use the jet pack I sent you yesterday."

"Of course, I'm a genius!" Charleston went flying into the air as an annoyed Karen grunted on his headphones.

"Look, a bird." Said Patrick, pointing at Charleston with one hand and holding a cup of vanilla ice cream with the other.

"No, that's a plane." Said JimBob enjoying his fifteen-minute break in company of his best friend and girlfriend.

"No, it's just Charleston." Said Sandy. "Do you guys think he has realized he forgot to take the Secret Sauce Recipe before running away like a chicken?"

"Judging by the face he is making, he just has." JimBob laughed as he watched how Charleston closed his eyes and put his hands on his headphones, as if a loud voice was piercing his ears. "I don't think Mr. Slabs has realized it neither."

"And don't you dare tell him, JimBob." Manward told him as prepared himself to exit The Trusty Slab. "If the boss isn't around, that means I can go home early. So long fools, I have date with an instrument named tuba…I mean, a woman named Luca. I mean… bye!"

"Goodbye Manward. Good luck with Luca!" JimBob said, waving his hand.

Frenchy looked at the chaotic scene and smiled, his face now concealed by the mask of Mr. Krabs ' motley.

Sure, he no longer was able to watch his dear friends from Bikini Bottom due to his boss firing him over handing over the photos without his permission, but that was alright.

His firing was only temporary. His lawyer was making sure of that.

And in the meantime, he had his friends from the surface, and they were no less entertaining or interesting than his sea creature counterparts.


	2. O-Z

_**Hello! Thanks a lot to everyone for reading and to Dreamer 1920, Skillet-Writer and umi for the reviews! It makes really happy to know you enjoy these little stories. **_

_**Also, while I originally planned for this to be a two-shot, now I think I might expand on this story based on what I have established in these drabbles. I already have an idea for two future plots, I have to think better about the details. Any suggestions are welcome **_

_**Anyway, I hope you enjoy the chapter!**_

* * *

_ **On-time** _

"It's okay little one, I'm not going to hurt you." Frenchy said to the little fish trapped inside the net as he tried to cut it open with a sharp rock. His wet Mr. Krabs' motley soon became heavy. It was a good thing Frenchy was used to wearing hefty outfits.

Once the net was cut open, he carefully grabbed the fish and dragged it back to freedom. The fish looked at him and swam around him, rubbing its head against him in gratitude.

"It was nothing, _mon ami_. Now go, and never come back." Frenchy smiled and watched the fish disappear into the ocean. It wasn't until it was out of sight that he decided to swim back to the shore.

"Oh heavens, it's sea Bigfoot!" screamed a man that saw Frenchy coming out of the water. He ran away so quickly that Frenchy didn't have time to stop him.

"That's the third time I've scared that guy this week." Frenchy said, ignoring the curious eyes of the rest of the beachgoers. More than afraid, they were curious of the strange man who decided to go for a swim wearing a stupid motley instead of swimming trunks. "At this pace, he'll turn me into some kind of urban legend, or a funny anecdote to tell his therapist."

Frenchy ignored the occasional mocking jab and confused glares people threw at him on his way to the Trusty Slab.

"Frenchy! This is the third time you've arrived late. And considering you've only worked here for three days, that means you have an on-time percentage of cero per cent." Mr. Slabs exclaimed at him as soon as he entered the establishment. "And look at you! You always come to work all wet and smelling of sea water. That's not the image I want me employees to give to me costumers."

"I'm sorry, _Monsieur_ Slabs." Frenchy gave him an apologetic chuckle. "It won't happen again."

"I'm sorry too, because you've left me no choice but to fire—"

"Mr. Slabs, please." Said JimBob, who had been eavesdropping form the kitchen. "Don't be so hard on Frenchy. He's still new; besides, he just misses his old job and can't help himself from going on daily morning swims on the beach. Right Frenchy?"

"Yeah, precisely that." Frenchy said, relieved for the sudden excuse JimBob had offered him. "I'm just so used to being at sea. Old habits die hard."

Mr. Slabs squinted; his hands were firmly placed on his hips.

Frenchy gulped. _I'm so fired. And it only took three days, that's a new record._

"Alright." Mr. Slabs sighed. "Just be sure it doesn't happen again. And here, mop the floor before more costumers arrive. The last thing I want is for one of them to take me to court because he slipped on one of your puddles."

He gave Frenchy a mop. Frenchy obeyed him without complaints. He didn't appreciate the extra work, but he didn't resent it either.

It was a small price to pay for the lives of little fish and the many other sea creatures he had saved the previous days.

Overall, he didn't regret it.

He whistled as he mopped the floor with enthusiasm.

"I almost forgot." Mr. Slabs said, suddenly appearing from behind the door of his office. "Every minute you arrive late is a dollar I'll take from your paycheck. Those are the rules here boy!"

Frenchy's whistling stopped as if someone had punched him in the stomach.

"You're joking" he said to Mr. Slabs, only to discover he was no longer there ",_ mon diue_, he's not joking.

He collapsed on the floor like a swooning maiden.

"You better get used to it." Manward grunted as he continued to read the newspaper. "You damn neophyte."

_ **Proof** _

"Don't let it upset you, dear."

"But he screamed it in front of everyone! They all laughed, even JimBob. You know you're pathetic when JimBob laughs at you."

"Well, if you want to…" Karen made a long pause ", I could prove them wrong."

Charleston's dinner escaped his hands. Soon, crumbs were scattered all over the floor. He pressed his headphones against his ears so closely he could hear Karen's breathing.

"You'd do that?" he whispered, "are you sure?"

"Yes. It's not as if I enjoy Slabs calling me 'your imaginary lover' at every chance he gets. Maybe it's time I show him that I really exist. I say we prove it to him tomorrow, then we'll see who's laughing."

"Karen," Charleston was holding back tears "you're the best long-distance wife a long-distance husband could ever have."

"Tell me something I don't know." Karen said smugly. Then, she added with a flirty voice "Hey, it's almost midnight. Do you want to, you know…watch our late-night program?"

Charleston grinned and immediately turned on the TV. "I thought you'd never ask. Are you watching it too, honey?"

"Oh yes, I'm watching it."

Tuned in the same channel, the long-distance couple watched the program on the privacy of each of their rooms.

A moment later, they laughed in unison.

"Did you see that? That guy got hit in the nuts with a coconut!"

_ **Quaff** _

"Hello Trusty crew!" said a muscular man that entered the Trusty Slab, one slow Saturday morning.

"Great." Manward scoffed. "Just what my day needed. Another idiot."

"Larry!" JimBob came out of the kitchen to greet the buffy guy with a high five "It's been a while!"

"I know, sorry for not coming here more often. I've really missed this place." Larry put down a box on the floor and wiped small beads of sweat from his forehead with his giant forearms, "But I've been busy working on a new recipe—"

"Did someone say secret sauce recipe?!" Charleston screamed, emerging from under a table and blowing his cover. Larry, JimBob, Manward and the few costumers that were eating breakfast looked at him with equal surprise. Charleston just stood there, giggling and scratching his head awkwardly. "Dammit, they're unto us! Mission failed; don't worry Karen, we'll get them next time."

And with that, he made a dramatic escape through a window. Larry and JimBob watched him as he ran away toward the Crumb Basket.

"Anyway," continued Larry, as if nothing had happened, "as I was saying, I've been working on the perfect recipe for my new protein infused milkshakes," he took out a red can from the box and handed it to JimBob, "here, try one. It's strawberry flavored."

"Protein infused? Oh boy!" JimBob said with a smile "Does that mean it'll make me buff and strong like you?"

"Uhm," Larry shrugged ", yeah sure."

"That's great." SpongeBob prepared to take the first sip, "I hope Sandy loves the results."

"JimBob!" Mr. Slabs sudden scream made the fry cook choke on the drink and make a mess on the floor.

"I'm not cleaning that." Said Manward before anyone tried to suggest otherwise "On the other hand, I'm sure Frenchy would be more than happy to."

"_Tu es un __bâtard, _Manward_._" Frenchy said from the kitchen, where he was washing the dishes.

"What?"

"In French, it means you're clever."

"Oh." Manward smiled with satisfaction and went back to reading a catalogue of tubas concealed by the newspaper "Yes, I know."

Meanwhile, Mr. Slabs went toward Larry and fulminated him with his eyes.

"Well, well. Look who's here." Mr. Slabs folded his arms, "Larry the mobster"

"Seriously? That was years ago. "Replied Larry "I swear, one awkward teen phase and you're labeled for life!"

"What do you want here, boy? You don't plan to tag your funny drawings and raunchy one-liners in the bathroom again, do you?"

"Come on Mr. Slabs, I was immature back then. I've changed." Larry said with sincerity. Then, he offered one of his canned milkshakes to Mr. Slabs, "And to show you I'm serious, I've come here with a business proposal. Would you like the Trusty Slab to be the first restaurant to serve my milkshakes? Not only are they tasty, but they also put meat on your bones. Your costumers will love them!"

"My costumers are mostly office employees, not gym addicted thugs, like some of us here."

"Okay, that's just rude."

"Try one, Mr. Slabs." Said JimBob, finally recovering his breath. "They taste really good. By the way, am I buff yet? Manward?"

"Yeah, whatever." Answered Manward without looking at JimBob. His answer made JimBob go crazy with happiness. He couldn't stop thinking how happy Sandy would be when she saw him after work.

"Well, they are a bit of fraud in the practical sense." Mr. Slabs observed as he opened his can ", however, I'm all about the taste. This is for free, right?"

"Yes." Larry sighed, not wanting to lose his business chance. "Drink as many of them as you want."

"Huh, maybe you're really a good guy now Larry, my boy. Maybe I was too harsh on you." Mr. Slabs said, a little apologetic. He then quaffed his free drink. "And this is delicious indeed! …Woah, has Manward's hair always been blue? And why is the roof talking to me? I think I should lay down for a while…be right back."

Mr. Slabs collapsed on the floor before the horrified eyes of Larry.

"Mr. Slabs?" he knelt next to the knocked-out man and slapped him a few times to make him react, but Slabs was as deeply asleep as a baby with a cozy blanket "Oh no."

"Okay _mon amies_, I'm done with the dishes. What did you want me to clean?" Frenchy announced coming out of the kitchen only to find JimBob kissing his skinny forearms, Manward reading a tuba magazine, a broken window with Charleston's figure on it, a knocked-out Mr. Slabs and a muscular guy making a run for it with a box on his hands. "Oh boy, this job is a little crazier that I'd expected, and I used to work with talking fishes!"

_ **Rythym** _

Manward was carrying a big package. He quickly opened the door of his apartment and went inside before any of his neighbors could see him. Once in the safety of his home, he unwrapped the package with the help of a small knife.

His eyes watered at the beauty of the instrument now resting on his kitchen table.

"At last!" he exclaimed "my new tuba is here. I can't wait to play you tonight at the concert for masked musicians."

He laughed to himself and gazed at his dazzling instrument once more. It had costed him a fortune, which had meant a few months of eating nothing but left-overs from the Trusty Slab, but it had been worth it.

Manward took the tuba and went to put it inside his closet. He was proud of his love and talent for music, but it had never been something he wished other people to know about him.

Highschool had made sure that.

"You'll be safe here." He said sweetly to the tuba as he put it down on the closet's floor. When he crouched down, a wrinkly photo fell from the pocket of his shirt. "Huh? What's this? Ah, it's the photo of that octopus Frenchy gave me. Did I really put it in the washing machine together with my shirt? I'm getting clumsy…I hope JimBob's idiocy isn't airborne!"

He picked up the photo with the intention of putting it away on his night shelf, but after seeing it again, he became inspired.

The octopus, Squidward or whatever was his name, was playing the clarinet without any inhibitions.

According to Frenchy, he wasn't very good at it, but it didn't stop him from playing every day to his heart's content.

Manward had an epiphany.

If Squidward was able to play without reserves even if he had little talent, then why shouldn't Manward do the same when he was actually talented?

"No more hiding." Manward said with determination. He picked up his new tuba and put Squiward's phot back on his pocket. "It's time for the world to know the gift to music that is Edward Manward, the cashier!"

He played like never before. He followed the rhythm of his heart. His music had never been so beautiful.

"MANWARD!" Screamed someone, knocking at his door relentlessly. "Do you hear that awful sound? It must be the tsunami alert! Come on, let's get to the shelter quickly! I've already got Gary with me. Hurry!"

"JimBob, I've told millions of times never to talk to me while we are here." Manward said to his coworker and neighbor.

JimBob kept knocking. Just when Manward was about to open the door to tell him to go away, JimBob's fist punched through it as if it was made of paper.

"Oops, sorry." JimBob looked at a surprised Manward through the newly made hole. "Larry's milkshake worked a lot better than I expected."

_ **Screen** _

"Gather up, idiots." Charleston said as he interrupted a peaceful night in the Trusty Slab "Today you'll learn a truth you'll never dare to question again."

"Oh, hi Charleston." JimBob was finishing his last tasks before he could go home. Sandy was also there, drinking a glass of water. "Sorry, we're about to close. It's not as if I could serve you a Slaby Patty anyway, but maybe you'd like something to drink? We have these new milkshakes that—"

"Quiet." Manward told him. "Get out of here Charleston. It's time to close and I don't want to waste ten minutes of my life watching how Mr. Slabs chases you around with a broom. I have somewhere to be tonight, you know."

"None of you will be leaving until I say so." Charleston laughed. He jumped on a table with a computer in hand. The screen showed only an image of a giant K with a green and stylized font. "Slabs! Where are you? Come out now! I have someone very important I want you to meet."

"What's all that noise?" Slabs came out of his office wearing a jacket and a hat. He looked at his nemesis and sighed heavily "Not today Charleston, I'm tired."

"Today is the day." Charleston put the computer closer to them. "Todays is when you finally meet my long-distance wife!"

Slabs, JimBob, Sandy and even Manward got closer to the computer.

"So…is the computer your wife?" Sandy guessed, and whispered to JimBob in the ear "I think he took his sea counterpart too seriously."

"No!" Charleston said. "Not the computer, but the woman behind it."

"Is there a woman behind the computer?" JimBob searched with a big smile and was disappointed when he found no one there.

"Oh heavens." Charleston rolled his eye. "Karen, just talk to these idiots already before they kill me with their one-neuron brains."

Everyone went silent, looking expectantly at the screen.

"Hello there." said a female voice. "I'm Karen. My long-distance husband has told me many things about all of you. Not many of them were flattering, so maybe we should just discuss something else."

"No way." Mr. Slabs said, totally incredulous.

"So all this time, Charleston really has been married?" Manward was as shocked as his boss.

"If you had me told that today this would happen, I'd have been very skeptical." Said Sandy with an arched eyebrow.

"Hello Karen!" JimBob waved at the screen with a hearty grin. "Nice to finally meet you!"

"So? Who's the lunatic with an imaginary lover now, Slabs?" Charleston spat at him. "Not me!"

"Well, me neither."

"That's not the point!" Charleston hugged the computer and kissed the screen. "Look at their faces Karen. Now no one will doubt us again. We win. WE WIN!"

"Hello everybody." Said Patrick, entering the Trusty Slab. "Hey JimBob, there's this masked musicians concert tonight and I thought we could—"

"Who's the chubby guy?" Said Karen "Is that Patrick? He fits the description."

Patrick's face became pale. He stared at the computer as if it was a beast ready to attack him. "Oh no, a possessed box! Don't worry, I'll get it!"

"Patrick, no!" JimBob screamed. He and the rest of his friends could only watch in horror as Patrick snapped the computer from Charleston's hands and slammed it against the floor Soon, it was little more than a mass of cables, chips and broken plastic.

"Karen!" Charleston knelt next to his destroyed computer and gently scooped some of the debris. "Karen! NO!"

"This is so sad." Manward said, putting a hand on his heart. "JimBob, play _I'm a Goofy Goober_."

"Come on, don't be like that." Sandy chided him as JimBob clung to her and cried for poor Karen. "Can't you see Charleston's serious about this?"

Charleston continued to cry as he clung to the remnants of his destroyed device.

"For heavens' sake, stop crying you twit!" Karen screamed at him from his headphones. "I swear, you're so dramatic."

"Oh, sorry." Charleston put himself together and stood up. "I just got carried away. Are you hurt, honey?"

"No, but the moment everything became static after Patrick destroyed the computer really scared me…"

"I know babe, I know. He scared me too." Charleston left the Trusty Slab as he cooed comforting words to his headphones.

"Well," said Mr. Slabs ", that was a roller coaster of emotions."

"More like ten minutes of my life I'll never recover." Manward grunted. "Now if you excuse me, I have to get out of here. The masked musicians concert begins soon and…forget it, see you."

"Oh yeah!" Patrick snapped his fingers. "That's why I came here. Do you and JimBob want to go, Sandy? I have tickets!"

"Sure." Sandy said while JimBob continued to cry on her shoulder. "As soon as I can make JimBob understand Karen is alive and well. This could take a while."

In the end, it took so long that by the time they arrived at the concert, the infamous Masked Tuba Man had already finished his performance amidst dozens of water bottles thrown at him and the energetic applause of his eccentric, number one French fan.

** _Twin_ **

"So it was you who was running my traps and freeing the animals all this time. I should have known." Said a voice from behind Frenchy as he walked along the shore after having rescued more aquatic life "Jacques, my dear little brother."

Frenchy halted his steps and turned around. "It's been a while, Sy. Or should I call you...Cyclops?"

"Why would you call me that?" the man clad in a diving suit asked, genuinely confused.

"Don't you know? That's what the sea creatures call you." Frenchy threw a destroyed net at his brother's feet "The ones that manage to escape your dirty claws, that is. You're quite an infamous legend among them, you know?"

"Well, being infamous must be a family thing." Cyclops folded his arms. "After all, you're the Sea Bigfoot from the news, aren't you? I heard there's even a movie in production about you. I guess the myth is more interesting than the truth, but I know you, brother. You're nothing but an old coot working on a greasy restaurant. What happened to your other job?"

"None of your business."

"You got fired, didn't you?" Cyclops pointed at Frenchy and laughed. "Wait until I tell _mère _about this. She'll be so mad."

Those words sent shivers down Frenchy's spine.

"You wouldn't."

"I would," Cyclops approached him and whispered in his ear, "unless you help me with something. You see, Shell City is not doing very well. Tourists don't buy common knick-knacks anymore, they want unique things! So I was thinking, how about you bring me those creatures from that peculiar underwater town you used to study. Bikini Bottom, was it?"

Frenchy stepped back. If he hadn't been wearing his motley, his brother would have seen his horrified expression.

"What?"

"Come on. Don't' overreact, they're just dumb animals." Cyclops began to count with his fingers "I mostly want certain specimens. You know, the ones you once showed picture of to our _mère_. The silly sponge, the dim-witted starfish, the cynical octopus, the greedy crab, the conniving plankton and the cynical computer. Help me get them, and the news of your new job as the stupid mascot of a third-rate restaurant will be our secret."

Frenchy clenched his fists. The memories of the many days he had spent gazing at the residents of Bikini Bottom raced through his mind. The nostalgia about his old job almost made him cry.

"You can tell our mother whatever you want about me, brother. I won't stop you." Frenchy took a fighting stance. "But I will not let you harm those creatures. Never!"

Though his face was hidden, Frenchy knew Cyclops was red with anger.

"Oh yeah?" Cyclops snapped his fingers and neck, "Then bring it on!"

The twin brothers ran at each other and began fighting right in the middle of the beach, unaware that dozens of beachgoers, Patchy included, were recording them and cheering on them as if they were gladiators on a colosseum.

"This just in!" said a news reporter by the name of John Elaine that arrived to the beach minutes after the fight had started. "Sea Bigfoot finally attacks! A brave man wearing only a diving suit confronts him! Who will win? The hero, or the monster? Whoa!"

John Elaine fell to the sand after Patchy pushed him and took away his microphone. "Hey mom! Turn on the T.V, I'm on the news!"

_ **Unleash** _

Patrick gazed at the chaos happening on the beach. He felt the same sensation that had taken over him when he heard the possessed box talk a few days ago in the Trusty Slab.

He had been afraid of being hurt. But above all, he had feared that his friends would get hurt. And now, who was going to protect all those people on the beach from the two monsters fighting each other?

Someone had to step in and bring order before someone got injured. Patrick would never forgive himself if that happened while he was present.

"It's time," he said as he took off his shorts and placed them on his head, blinding him completely, "for Patrick Man to return. I'm not the hero you need or want, but I'm the only hero there is! Don't worry, I'll keep this town safe!"

He practiced a heroic pose and screamed "Unleash the lazy power!"

He charged at the two monsters with the sole guidance of the noises they made.

"Look mom, a guy in underpants!"

"Hey you, put some damn pants on!"

Patrick interpreted those words as the people's way of encouraging him.

"Patrick Man to the rescue!" he shrieked as he lunged himself forward. Before they knew it, Frenchy and Cyclops became crushed under Patrick's heavy weight.

With that, the beach brawl came to an anticlimactic end. The disappointed audience began to dissipate, expressing their annoyance at the half naked man that had negated them of their fun.

"There you have it, folks." John Elaine said to his viewers. "A chubby man with shorts on his head just knocked out our hero and the abominable Sea Bigfoot. It is a sad ending for our tale, but such is life. Be sure to tune us tomorrow at the same time in the same channel. I'm John Elaine from _Surface News_, I wish you all good night."

John signaled the cameramen to cut the recording. His charming smile transformed into a scowl as soon as he stopped being on air.

"And just like that, my exciting news became a parody spoof. All thanks to that meddling idiot." He shrugged. "It's bound to get good ratings; people love this kind of crazy stuff. At least it's better than those other news about the hallucination-inducing milkshakes…Damn, what has happened to my journalist career?"

_ **Viewers** _

"Patrick Man is back!" JimBob exclaimed so loudly that he woke up Gary, who had been peacefully sleeping on his lap. "I feel so much safer with him around."

"I suppose he's harmless, as long as he doesn't cause the town's economy to collapse, a new drought to come and the fall of civilization as we know it again." Said Sandy from the other side of the couch.

JimBob stared at her, his eyes were so wide that they looked as if they would fall from his face.

"Did he really do all that?"

"No," Sandy admitted, "but it could happen. Better to be prepared than sorry. By the way, was that Frenchy fighting? That motley looked the same as the one he wears at work."

"Nah, don't be silly," SpongeBob dismissed while he patted a sleepy Gary on the head, "that was Sea Bigfoot."

"How are you so sure?"

"Because the news said so." JimBob shrugged "And if it appears on the news, it must be true, right?"

_He's cute_. Sandy thought as she saw his boyfriend laugh at the repeated clip of Patchy saying hi to his mother, which had already gone viral. _Even if he's not much of a critical thinker._

_ **Wage** _

"Alright Trusty crew, as you know, Frenchy is in the hospital and he won't be returning for a few weeks. It seems he sustained some serious injuries, like a twisted ankle and a broken pinky. Let us all take a minute of silence for our fallen crewmate." Mr. Slabs, always greedy, even when it came to time, reduced the minute to a second and then continued, "but we must go on! And it makes me happy to announce that I've already found his replacement. Please say hi to our newest member, who from now on will be wearing our dear mascot's motley!"

After his bombastic introduction, a buffy version of Mr. Krabs entered the restaurant. The motley fitted him so tightly it looked as if it would tear apart at any second.

"Hey guys."

"Larry is that you?" asked JimBob.

"Underneath this costume of shame, I am." Larry could barely move, and when he did, it looked as if he'd had an accident in his pants. "My butt doesn't look bubbly with this motely, does it?"

"Are you sure you want an answer?" Manward told him.

"Oh boy." Larry said without hope. "The things I do to get Mr. Slabs from not suing me for accidentally poisoning him with a milkshake…and I'm not even going to get paid a full wage! A mobster's redemption is hard, man."

_ **Xebec** _

"Alright, you can open your eyes now!"

Mr. Slabs laughed before doing what her daughter said. They were on the port, and before him, he saw a brand-new ship. A xebec, a perfect and fully functional replica like those of centuries ago. His heart fell to his stomach.

"Happy birthday, daddy!" His daughter hugged him and kissed him in the cheek. "I got you just what you wanted!"

Mr. Slabs was paralyzed from head to toe.

"Pearl, my only and beloved daughter," he asked with a thread of voice ", did you buy this with your money?"

His daughter laughed. Her laughter was very similar to his, both in sound and mannerisms.

"Don't be foolish! You told me I could use your credit card to buy your gift, remember?" Pearl wiped a tear from her eye, "but don't worry about that, you deserve this. You always worked so hard, and I wanted this gift to be special."

"But—why a xebec, my darling?" Mr. Slabs was trying to hold back his tears.

Pearl chuckled, a little ashamed. "Well, I went through your things, and I found this cutout of a ship you liked. I know you like to keep snips of the things you one day would like to buy, so I decided to be one step ahead of you and buy it before someone else did. I'm glad I did, there was only one in existence!"

Mr. Slabs couldn't pretend anymore. Freely, almost grossly, he allowed his tears to stream down his face. His daughter hugged him again.

She was crying too.

"Oh daddy, you're so happy you're crying! Don't worry, it was nothing. I love you."

"I love you too, sweetie" Mr. Slabs said. He didn't have the heart to tell his daughter that his tears were of sadness for having inadvertently spent so much money on his own birthday gift, or to tell her that the cutout he kept was of a miniature xebec model to build inside a bottle. "I love you too."

_ **Yonder** _

"Now those fools will never doubt our relationship again!"

"They better not." Karen allowed his long-distance husband to finish his evil laugh before continuing, "you know, it's weird. I know you hate them, but it was nice meeting them. I mean, it was only for a minute, but still."

"Hate them?" Charleston sounded taken aback ", that's too harsh. I'd leave it at _I don't like them_. They seemed happy to meet you too, Karen. They are easily impressed simpletons…no offense, honey."

"Maybe it would be nice if we met too. In person, I mean." Karen bit her tongue.

Charleston felt a void in his stomach. Had he heard right, or had it only been some static?

"What?" he asked after a long silence.

"What?" Karen echoed him.

"Did you just—?"

"Nope."

"Yes, you did."

"Can you prove it? If not, you're lying."

"Karen."

"Just forget about it." Karen laughed nervously "Did you see the news about the fight between those morons in the beach? I hadn't laughed so much since the time you told me about how Patrick thought your eyepatch was a portal to another dimension."

"Do you want to?" Charleston said firmly. He didn't sound angry, but his voice was far from being easy-going.

Karen remained quiet. She wished she hadn't brought it up. It had been a stupid suggestion, almost a joke.

Or had it? When she thought about it, she realized she wasn't so sure.

"I don't know." It was the most honest thing she could say.

"Me neither." Charleston said.

"I—" Karen swallowed her words. "I must go. Sorry I brought this up. I'll call you tomorrow, okay? I love you."

"Karen, wait—"

She finished the call. As expected, Charleston tried to call her again several times.

Karen took off her own set of headphones and ignored the calls. She stood up from her chair and looked outside the window of her apartment.

She saw the sea, and thought of his husband over yonder.

_ **Zeal** _

"According from what I've heard, you've destroyed dozens of nets from a souvenir shop known as Shell City, you became an internet legend known as Sea Bigfoot, you fought your own brother on international television, and to top it all, you ended up in the hospital because a half-naked man landed on you."

"_Oui_, pretty much." Frenchy didn't know what his boss wanted to hear, but it was all he could think of at the moment.

His boss stared at him from behind his desk.

Had he called him just to scold him?

_It could be worse_. Frenchy thought. _I'd rather being chided by him than by my dear __mère_.

"You've always been a handful, Jacques." His boss said, lighting up a cigarette. "And let me just say your lawyer was an incompetent tool. I threaten him once, and he cried. He made me feel like a bully."

Frenchy now understood why his boss had summoned him. He wanted to make sure he understood he was never going to hire him back.

Frenchy felt as if a part of his heart disappeared. Every day, as he put on the motley, he had done so with the hope that it was only a momentary phase of his life, and that he soon would be back to study the wonderful creatures under the sea.

"I understand." He said with a trembly voice. "Thank you for everything you—"

Before he could continue with his sad farewell, his boss put a new contract on the desk and handed him a pen.

Frenchy looked at his boss. He couldn't believe what was happening.

"Like a said, you're a handful." His boss, for the first time since they had met, smiled at him. "But you're passionate about the sea, and I need someone with that kind of zeal to study those peculiar sea creatures we found years ago. I need someone that sees them not as mere objects of study, but as living creatures worth protecting. And from what I've heard, you're always willing to do that, aren't you Jacques?"

Frenchy couldn't answer. His head was a hurricane of thoughts and emotions. In the end, he didn't.

He simply signed the contract and thanked his boss for the new opportunity.

With that, Frenchy was back at his old submarine the next day. He would be gone for a while; he had to make up for the lost time, and his boss had given him an special assignment.

"Bikini Bottom, here I go." He announced as his submarine submerged into the ocean. He looked out the window and gave a last look to the surface. To his surprise, he saw all his friends on the shore.

JimBob and Sandy were making sandcastles together while Gary the kitten played with a hermit crab.

Patrick was being chased down by the lifeguard, who tried to stop him from causing more well-intentioned chaos in the beach.

Mr. Slabs and his daughter Pearl were getting ready to set sail on their brand-new Xebec.

Manward was sleeping on a beach bed with a suntan reflector resting on his chest and a music magazine covering his face.

There was also Larry, who tried to shake off some kids who had climbed up his back and were squishing the eyes of his Mr. Krabs' motley.

Finally, there was Charleston, who looked tearfully at the sea while holding his headphones against his ears.

"Goodbye,_ mon amies_." Frenchy said, realizing his surface friends were as dear to him as those who lived under the sea, "I'll see you again someday."


	3. Kelp Beer is the solution!

_**A new arc starts! This is part one of the first of the individual stories. Each character will have one :)**_

_**Thanks for reading!**_

* * *

"Then it's settled, Karen."

"Yes. Are you sure about this, Charleston?"

"Of course I am. This'll be a good thing for us."

"By the way, when you told me about your eye…Well, you told me only by accident when you were telling me one of your daily anecdotes, but-"

"Karen, is my only eye a problem? I mean, you accepted it so easily. I just want to know if it really doesn't bother you."

"No you silly, I don't care that you have only one eye. Men with eye patches are sexy! It gives them this adventurous, daring vibe, almost like pirates. Stop worrying about it, okay? I do not mind at all."

"I'm sorry I kept it from you for so many years. I'm the worst, the absolute worst."

"You're not! Just don't expect me to send you more free glasses. There are better ways for me to spend that money, you know, like in more six packs of these kelp beers!"

"You're so coldhearted, honey. But man, you speak with the wisdom of a sage."

"Anyway, it left me thinking and... Charleston, do you want me to tell you something about how I look? It's just that it seems a bit crummy that I know about your eye, but you know nothing about me."

"I know plenty about you, honey. We've been a long-distance marriage for 25 years, haven't we?"

"You know what I mean. Tell me, do you want to know something about my appearance? Anything."

"No."

"I've never been rejected so quickly in my life, and by my own husband!"

"It's not like that!"

"Easy there, that was joke."

"I think you need to work on your comic timing, babe. I just don't see the point in you telling me how you look by phone when we'll meet in person next week. I know you won't disappoint me."

Karen didn't answer_. Yeah,_ she thought, _because that doesn't put more pressure on my shoulders at all, if that's even possible._

Charleston understood his poor choice of words and quickly stuttered an apology.

"I don't, I mean—" Charleston slapped himself in the forehead. "What I wanted to say is that you won't disappoint me at all, no matter how you look! I promise you that, Karen."

_You idiot. _Karen was glad he couldn't see her. _You almost made me cry...or is it the alcohol?_

"I... I promise you won't disappoint me at all either, Charleston!"

"Oh Karen!"

"Oh Charleston!"

"OH KAREN!"

"OH CHARL—" Karen was interrupted by an angry neighbor knocking at her door and shouting at her to keep it down before he called the police. "Oh my god, I hadn't noticed it's 4 am. Time flies when you're having a very serious conversation with your spouse."

"It's only midnight here. And who was that fool that screamed at you? I swear I'll find him and—"

"He's just the grumpy old man next door. Never mind him."

"If you say so, honey. I still don't like him."

"Anyway, I should probably go to bed now. I'm going to be a bit busy tomorrow, so I probably won't be able to call on time for our daily attempt at stealing the secret sauce recipe…"

"Don't worry, our scheme is so flawless that there's no way it can fail. I'll get that recipe and give it to you when we meet next week. It'll be my first face-to-face gift!" Charleston caressed his headphones. "Goodnight, sweetie."

"Aren't we especially corny with our pet names tonight." Karen laughed. "Hey, Charleston?"

"Yes?"

"I love you."

It was something they told each other frequently, but for some reason, this time it was different. More than a reminder, it felt like a statement.

"I love you too." Charleston laid down on his bed.

"More than crumbs?"

"By far."

"More than the Crumb Basket?"

"Obviously."

"More than the secret sauce recipe?"

"Whoa, easy there."

"Yikes, and I'm the coldhearted one here."

"It's all in good fun, babe."

"With you, everything is."

"You always have to have the last laugh, don't you?"

"It's part of my charm."

They laughed together one last time before saying their goodbyes again and ending the call. They both went to sleep without taking their headphones off.

When they awoke the next day, the memory of their agreement was a fuzzy memory that felt more like a dream.

It took a while for reality to catch up with both of them. The realization of what they had agreed on came to Karen while she was taking a pill for her hungover nausea . As for for Charleston, it found him in the middle of a bath of cold water to soothe his horrible headache.

"It wasn't a drunken dream. We actually agreed to meet each other next week." They smiled at the same time.

A moment later, their smiles vanished as their faces became distorted by overwhelming stress.

"Dammit," they exclaimed in unison so loudly that Karen woke up her old neighbor and Charleston scared the living heck out of Mr. Slabs as he was about to open the Trusty Slab. "Curse you, kelp beers! Curse you!"


	4. This plan was as good as our marriage

_**Hey there! Thanks a lot to everyone for reading this fic and to Liner, America's got fandom, Dreamer1920 and Skillet-Writer for the reviews!**_

_**Enjoy!**_

* * *

"Careful, careful," JimBob's tongue was sticking out. He tended to do that whenever he became overly focused, "and…there! What do you think, Manward?"

"Great." Manward said after yawning. "And it only took you thirty minutes when it should have taken you two. You're the personification of efficiency, JimBob."

"Oh, it's nothing." JimBob said coyly as he admired his work. "I can't believe the annual Beach Palooza is just around the corner! The delicious food, the lively music, the entertaining shows, the hundreds of people dancing, the tons of shameless advertisement made by the sponsors… I can't wait! Sandy, Patrick and I are going to perform this year, you know. Will you go to see us, Manward? We're gonna play this song and—"

"How interesting, but need I remind you still have ten posters left to stick around the restaurant?" Manward was getting a headache from his coworker's endless babbling. "Hurry up and get to it, you turtle. At your pace, it'll take you all day."

"Right!" JimBob picked up the second poster and began to stick it on the entrance's window. He did so as slowly as before. "It'll be so much fun. I just hope Patrick doesn't get kicked out for engulfing all the hot dogs before the eating contest begins, like it happened last year…"

"Are you seriously still talking?"

"I wonder who else will perform? I think I heard Bobby Bass will be doing a magic show. You don't think he can make himself disappear for a few weeks, do you? It may sound a bit mean, but I don't really like him and—"

JimBob shut his mouth the instant a costumer opened the door and slammed it directly on his face.

"Thank heavens," Squidward took a deep breath of relief. He put down the newspaper on the counter and started doing the daily crossword. "That fool was chewing my ear off to the point of almost devouring it. Now let's see…a six-letter word. A thing that guides you or tells you how to do something."

"Recipe." The costumer suggested.

"Yes, it fits. It's a bit vague, though." Manward shrugged and looked up. "Anyway, can I take your—wait, Charleston?"

"I would like to order a secrete sauce recipe, please."

"What the hell is wrong with your voice? Are you hungover? Never mind, I don't care. Get out of here before Mr. Slabs sees you."

"Recipe."

"How much time did you spend planning this ruse? One second?"

"No recipe?"

"JimBob, get rid of this idiot, he's starting to creep me out, even more than usual."

JimBob, with two crimson pieces of a napkin stuck inside his nostrils, appeared behind Charleston. "You won't get the recipe while I'm here, foul villain! Now behold my new special move. I call it… the Trusty Chokeslam!"

With a strength and agility that surprised Manward, JimBob grabbed Charleston by the neck and slammed him against the floor.

"Good heavens, JimBob!" exclaimed Manward. Then, after returning instantly to his normal apathy, he added, "you almost cause my coffee to spill on my crossword."

"What in the seven seas was that?!" Mr. Slabs came running out of his office and went directly toward JimBob. "Did someone slip? I'm sorry dear costumer, but the Trusty Slab doesn't take responsibility for your inherent clumsiness. How about I just give these 5% discount coupons and we forget about this little incident? Remember, they are only valid on Sundays at six in the morning, and with a minimum buy of five hundred dollars."

Mr. Slabs lost his smile when he realized the supposed customer was none other than Charleston. He laughed at his rival, who was laying on his back, completely immobile and with his eyes lost into the distance.

"Look at that. Defeated by my little fry cook," Slabs gave JimBob a friendly slap in the shoulder, "nice going, me boy!"

"It was easy. I just used a move I learned from Sandy." JimBob said with pride.

"After she used it on you?" Manward said with a mocking grin.

"Of course not." JimBob put a hand on his chest, completely offended, "I learned it after I saw her use it on Bobby Bass! My girlfriend is not a savage, Manward. She is a refined lady, and I love her so much."

JimBob took out his cellphone and looked at the screensaver, which was a photo of the exact moment when Sandy had slammed Bobby Bass agains the paviment. JimBob smiled and sighed dreamily, "Lovely".

"And people wonder why I say love is like a disease." Manward rolled his eyes and went back to his crossword.

"Who cares about the details?" Interrupted Mr. Slabs, "what matters here is that Charleston is defeated once again. JimBob, do me a favor and take out of the trash, won't you?"

"At once, sir." JimBob knelt next to Charleston, "don't worry, I won't throw you into the garbage like Mr. Slabs always does. I'll just take you out and…Charleston?" JimBob face became serious out of a sudden, "are you crying?"

"NO!" Charleston sat down and screamed. His eye was red and full of tears, "I don't cry! I'm a rock, I'm a heartless evil genius! Leave me alone, you idiot!"

Before anyone could say anything else to him, he started to bawl harder. He put his forearm over his eye and eyepatch and just sat there while JimBob, Manward and Mr. Slabs stared at him in total confusion.

"If this was a play and I was on the audience, right now I'd be crying too," said Manward, "of laughter."

"Stop that, Charleston! My costumers will arrive soon, and I don't want you to scare them away with your little scene. You're not fooling anyone with those crocodile tears, so get out of here before I make you," Mr. Slabs said. After seeing his rival ignored him, his stern expression softened, "dammit, have some dignity and self-control, Charleston Seriously, stop it. With how much force did you hit him, JimBob? I've never seen him act so pathetically, and that's saying something!"

"I was just—the secret recipe…he tried to steal it and—" JimBob put a hand over his mouth. He too was about to cry, "oh no. Charleston, I'm sorry. I didn't want to hurt you for real. I didn't know I was blessed with such immeasurable strength…I'm sorry!"

JimBob hugged Charleston, crying even more grossly than him.

"Ew, get off me! Your staining my headphones with your yucky tears." Charleston pushed JimBob away and took off his headphones to clean them with the sleeve of his shirt. He did so carefully and gently, "there! As good as new…as good as—"

Charleston looked at his headphones for a moment before he hugged them and started to cry again.

"Oh no, no, no, no." Mr. Slabs grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and forced him back on his feet. "We aren't going through this again. I don't know what's gotten into you but I've had enough. Get out here, Charleston."

"Slabs, are you asking me for the source of this unspeakable pain that shakes me to the very core?"

"No."

"We are nemesis, but since you insist so much, you've left me with no choice but to tell you!"

"Honestly Charleston, I don't give a flying f—"

"We'll listen to whatever you have to say, Charleston" JimBob said, "right Manward?"

Manward didn't answer. He had already plugged in his earphones and was listening to his tuba tunes at maximum volume.

"Okay, but you better listen closely because I'll only tell it once!" Charleston said. He told them his tale of his and Karen's agreement to meet next week in the annual Beach Palooza. His words went by amidst Mr. Slabs constants sighs of boredom and JimBob's genuine interest.

"So…" Manward said just after Charleston was finished with his story, "what's the problem here? You'll meet your long-distance wife once and for all, and? Leave it to you to have a marriage so bizarre, Charleston."

"What? Weren't you listening to music?" Charleston asked him.

"What can I say? I can never pass up a good drama." Manward scoffed," though your story was anything but. I honestly don't see why you're making so much fuzz about that!"

"I'm with Manward on this." Said Mr. Slabs. "If anything, you should be sad that you two didn't meet face to face much earlier! You know, like when you were dating, or in your wedding, or in your honeymoon, and I better stop there before I get into details I do not want to know…at all!"

"What part of 'long-distance marriage' you don't understand, Slabs?" Charleston rolled his eye, as if he was stating the obvious. Though he wanted to stay angry, it didn't take long before melancholy overwhelmed him again, "maybe it doesn't matter now. The moment we meet in person, we'll stop being a long-distance marriage to become a common marriage."

"And is that so bad?" asked JimBob as he tilted his head.

"I don't know! How the hell should I know?" Charleston spat at him. He looked at his headphones and calmed down, "I mean, for all I know she could just run away the moment she lays her eyes on me and divorce me before we even say a word to each other."

"And would you blame her?" Laughed Manward. His laughter was short lived when he noticed that not even Mr. Slabs was amused by his comment. Embarrassed, he forced himself to say something more adequate, "and how are you so sure you won't be the one to do that?"

"What?" Charleston asked, not believing what he had just heard.

"You're so worried that she won't like you," Manward explained as if he was an expert on the subject, "but what makes you so sure that you'll like her?"

"Because I promised, we promised. We said would like each other regardless of—"

"Yeah, you two promised that to each other, how cute, and yet you're still terrified that she won't keep her word."

"No! I know Karen, she would never—"

"Then you are just proving my point even further." Manward shrugged, "You are sure she will keep her word, but you aren't so sure that you'll keep yours, are you? Face it Charleston, that's what really troubles you."

_Oh Manward,_ he said to himself, _you're so sympathetic and wise. You should be a couple counselor instead of a cashier._

"It is?" Charleston asked to no one in particular. "Yes, I admit it. The thought crossed my mind. Dammit, it really did, but I wouldn't—"

JimBob looked at Charleston as he held on tightly to his headphones. He was about to say something to him when Mr. Slabs cleared his throat.

"Please," Mr. Slabs said after a bitter chuckle, "that should be the least of your concerns. Trust me Charleston, how either of you look will stop being relevant the moment you start living together. That's the breaking point for any relationship, and it's all downhill from there. All relationships are doomed to fail after a while. Don't believe me? Just ask my ex-wife." Slabs laughed heartily.

Charleston glared at him.

_What the hell? I thought talking about this was supposed to make me feel better_. He thought fiercely. _But you guys are only giving me even more of a marital crisis!_

"So…." The voice that came from his mouth, unlike the one inside his mind, was a lot more trembly and meek. ", we should just call off this whole thing?"

Slabs arched and eyebrow. "I don't know! That's a decision only you and Karen can make."

"Don't give me that crap and just answer the question, Slabs."

Mr. Slabs looked at him with expressionless eyes. "You two have a happy long-distance marriage. Why risk it with an unnecessary meeting that you two accorded when you were drunk on kelp beer? It just doesn't make any sense—"

Charleston took a step back. He put on his headphones and abandoned the Trusty Slab in a frenzy. JimBob tried to stop him, but Charleston ignored him. He went back to the Crumb Basket, running faster than ever before in his life.

_Curse him_! Charleston thought as Slab's words raced through his mind almost as quickly as his heartbeat, _he's right! Oh Karen, what have we done? We can't do this! We won't do this! I won't let us ruin our own marriage…our beautiful, long-distance marriage!_

"And there he goes," said Mr. Slabs as he watched together with JimBob how Charleston locked himself inside his empty restaurant across the street, "I never thought I'd start this day giving marital advice… life is crazy indeed."

"Mr. Slabs?"

"Yes, boy?"

"What you said was true?" It was seldom that Mr. Slabs had seen JimBob so upset, "are all relationships really doomed to fail?"

"Well," Mr. Slabs said as he returned back to his office ", it was true for me, boy. Whether it would be true for Charleston, you or anybody else it's whole a different matter."

Before he crossed the door to his office, he ordered JimBob to go back to the kitchen and get ready before more costumers arrived. JimBob obeyed him, but not before directing one last glance toward the Crumb Basket.

"Now let's see…" Manward said. He was almost done with his crossword. Only one more word left, "a word with eight letters. Something that causes calamity and pain for all involved. Synonym of ruin."

He thought for a moment. "Marriage."

The word fit perfectly.

He smiled.

Charleston's stupid conversation hadn't been a total waste of time after all.


	5. A lethal dose of reality, sugar flavored

_**Hey there! It makes me really happy to know you're enjoying the story. I may sound repetitive, but as always I wanna thank all of you for reading. After all, a story is nothing without its readers :) Also, thanks to America's Got Fandom, Dreamer 1920 and Skillet-Writer for the reviews, they really make my day haha.**_

_**This chapter is a bit different and longer than the others, but I hope you enjoy it.**_

* * *

Karen returned home. Her day couldn't get any worse.

"Hey, you! Stop right there."

Or could it?

Karen closed her eyes and grunted.

She looked at her old neighbor without bothering to hide her annoyance.

"Hey, old man." She said to old man Jenkins. "Listen, whatever complaint you have about me this time, It'll have to wait until tomorrow. Good night."

"Good night? I haven't had a good night since you moved here, missy! You're noisier than a carnival during summer break! You better learn to keep it quiet whenever you talk to that husband of yours, because next time I'll call the police. I swear I will."

"Isn't it time for you to go and take your pills?" Karen said.

_Come on old man, say something. You're my last hope._

Old man Jenkins squinted and pulled his glasses up his nose.

"Dammit, my pills for the heart!" he exclaimed in horror. Before he entered his apartment as quickly as his trembling legs allowed him, he looked at Karen one more time. "You may have saved my life, but you're still a very a rude and noisy missy."

He closed the door behind him. Karen rolled her eyes and sighed.

"I swear, every day it's the same thing. Every damn day…" She entered her home and took off her shoes. "And he didn't even notice anything different about me. I mean, he's blinder than a bat, but he was literally just a meter away. I can't believe I'm disappointed about that old coot not complimenting me! How low have I fallen!"

She put her bag down on the floor. Her plans for the rest of the night were simple: eat dinner and go straight to bed.

That night, she wouldn't call Charleston. She just didn't have the energy or the courage to do so, not after all the disappointment she had endured during the day.

Karen rubbed her forehead and decided she wouldn't think about it anymore. What had happened, had happened, and there was nothing she could do about it.

"It's my fault, after all." She kept talking as she walked toward her kitchen ", I should have known this wouldn't work. But no, you let your hopes go to your head. Good job, Karen. How the hell were you expecting this to turn out? I mean, just look at—"

Her reflection in the mirror caught her off guard. It made her freeze before it, first of out of a sudden scare, then out of disappointment.

Slowly, she approached it. She looked the same as when she had left her apartment that morning. She was wearing her best clothes, and her face, usually unadorned, was touched by a decent amount of makeup.

That morning, when she was finished getting herself ready and looked at the mirror, she had been lightly optimistic. She wasn't a beauty, but she wasn't so bad. She was bound to get a few compliments, or at least some surprised comments about how different she looked.

At least that what she'd thought.

The strangers on the streets, her co-workers and even her stupid old neighbor had given her a cruel dose of reality.

She hadn't been mocked.

Even worse.

She had passed as unnoticed as always.

Even her female coworkers, with whom she was on friendly terms, had said nothing about her appearance.

She had received one second of attention from a man when she was in a cafeteria during lunchtime. That would have been nice if he had said something to her other than _"Can I take your order, ma'am?"_ and _"Here's your change. Come back soon!"_

Karen felt her heart drop to her feet. Her day outside had been just like any other in her life.

That's what made it so disappointing.

"What a bland, unimpressive woman. And to think this is as good as I get." She laughed bitterly at herself. With her appetite now ruined, she decided to go to bed instead. She wouldn't even take the makeup off. "If I can't even impress a single stranger on the street or a coworker, how can I expect you to like me, Charleston?"

She laid down on her bed.

Her eyes were fixed on the roof. She rolled to the right and saw her headphones resting on the night shelf.

_Stupid things, _she thought, quickly turning her back on them, _I swear I'll throw you into the garbage if you make me cry._

"Dammit." She grunted as she closed her eyes. "You'll probably run away the moment you lay your eyes on me, and divorce me before we even say a word to each other. And I wouldn't blame you! If I wasn't me, I'd divorce myself too..."

A moment later, she rolled on her left side again and grabbed her headphones. She hugged them as if they were a teddy bear.

"How pathetic." She chided herself. Then, unable to fall asleep with all her thoughts and emotions swirling inside her mind, Karen straightened and put the headphones on, "What were we thinking? We cannot do this! I cannot do this! I'm sorry Charleston. I want to meet you, I really do. But I can't let this drunken agreement ruin everything between us. I'll always regret not ever seeing you face to face, but I simply cannot go through with this—Yeah, that sounds good. I'll tell him that, but first I must call him."

She was about to make the call when some knocked at the door.

"Go away, can't you see I'm busy?" She said to the stranger, and then added with a low voice, "drowning in my self-pity."

However, the knocking just became stronger and louder.

Karen's blood started to boil. She got off the bed and stood right in front of the door.

"Didn't you hear me? Get the hell out of here!"

The knocking continued.

"I have a laser gun." She threatened the stranger, making gun noises with her mouth, "and I'm not afraid to use it. Prepare to be evaporated in three, two, one…"

Either the stranger didn't hear her, or he was braver than she thought.

"Are you serious?!" Karen walked to the door and looked through the peephole. "You again? That's it, this time you've gone too far!"

She unlocked the door and opened it with so much strength that one of the hinges almost broke. "Enough! Look you old fool, I wasn't making any noise tonight, okay? But you know what? Go ahead! Call the cops! If you think you can make this day any worse for me, then be my guest and take a shot! I DARE YOU!"

Karen was out of breath. She felt strangely relieved, even if she knew Jenkins didn't deserve to be the receiver of her frustration and anger.

_It's his fault. He's just so annoying! You've had it coming for a long time, old man._

Old man Jenkins was completely unfazed by her outburst.

Ashamed, Karen looked down and scratched her head. "…Sorry."

Old man Jenkins said nothing, which was unusual for him. He tended to take every chance he had to complain about every little thing Karen did. He also had no qualms about blaming her of things she was totally innocent of.

Who was the neighbor that slammed her door too loudly? Karen.

Who was the neighbor that smoked inside her room? Karen.

Who was the neighbor that had left a pink sock on the washing machine? Karen

Who was the neighbor that had forgotten a trash bag in the entrance and caused a rat infestation in the building? Karen.

Who was the neighbor that always made a lot of noise when she was talking to her long-distance husband, especially during weekends? Kar—Okay, she was guilty of that.

Karen was taken aback by Jenkin's silence, but what really disturbed her was the smile that appeared on his lips. It was the first time he had smiled at her since they had met, more than two decades ago.

In that moment, Karen didn't think of him as her unbelievable nagging and annoying neighbor.

He was just a frail, lonely old man.

Old Man Jenkins raised his arm and showed her an empty bottle of pills. Judging by its colorful label, they weren't of the medical sort. "I made a mistake, missy. I'm not feeling too well… do you think you could take me to the—"

Old man Jenkins collapsed on his back before he could finish the sentence. His head hit the floor with a thud that echoed across the hallway.

Karen couldn't believe what was happening before her eyes.

"Hey, old man!" She knelt next to him. "Old man? Jenkins?!"

He was unresponsive. His hand refused to let go of the empty bottle.

Karen's head was a mess of adrenaline and confusion. "What the hell?!"

She managed to put herself together and gather enough strength to call an ambulance via her headphones.

_I wasn't serious about what I said, old man!_ Karen thought as she nervously waited for the operator to answer. _But you seriously made my day much worse than it already was!_

* * *

"Are you Karen?"

"Yes."

"I'm sorry," the doctor told her. She had been in the waiting room for almost three hours, "we made everything we could, but old man Jenkins ate too much Tic Tacs. His old veins and heart can't deal with that kind of sugar rush."

Karen put a hand on her mouth and then moved it to her cheek. "Does that mean he's—"

"No. He's awake right now. However, I don't think he'll make it through the rest of the night."

Karen nodded while the doctor stared at her with his eyes full of pity.

_I wonder if the doctor thinks I'm pretty._ The thought crossed Karen's mind as quickly as lightning. _No! How can I think that in a moment like this? What on earth is wrong with you, Karen?_

"Are you his daughter?" he asked her.

If the occasion wasn't so gloomy, Karen would have laughed out loud.

"No, no. I'm just his neighbor."

"Really?" the doctor put a hand on his chin. "That's a bit strange. He was very insisting about wanting to see you."

"Really?" Karen raised an eyebrow. When she thought about it, it made sense.

_So you want me to hear your complaints and insults to the very end, don't you old man? _Karen thought as the doctor told her she could go and see old man Jenkins if she wanted. _I'll humor you. I'll regret it forever if I don't._

The doctor guided her to Jenkin's room and excused himself.

Karen hesitated before crossing the door. A part of her wanted to run away. The thought of facing old man Jenkins for the last time was almost as terrifying as the idea of meeting Charleston for the first.

_This has been_, she thought as she opened the door and entered the room. Old Man Jenkins smiled at her presence, _the worst day in my life._

She didn't reciprocate the smile. It was as if all her emotions had been sucked out of her body.

Instead, she went straight to the chair next to the bed and sat down.

"Hello, missy." Old Man Jenkins' voice was so weak that Karen could barely understand what he was saying. He talked in between heavy breaths.

"Hey, old man."

"I'm glad you came. I thought you wouldn't. After all, you've always been very rude."

"What can I say? I have a tender heart. It's my main weakness." Karen said, remembering the time she had told Charleston the same thing.

"Ah, I see." Old Man Jenkins said. Then, with teary eyes and a voice full of melancholy, he asked her, "Why did this happen, missy?"

"Well, mostly because you chugged down an entire bottle of Tic Tacs." Karen bit her tongue. Sometimes it even amazed herself how little tact she had.

Old Man Jenkins tried to chuckle, but instead he had a coughing fit. His good humor continued even after it, and when talked to Karen again, his eyes were more full of life.

"You see? You're rude," he told her with a grin, "then again, so am I. With you, especially. That's why I wanted to see you."

"Go ahead, old man. I'm ready to hear to whatever complaint you have about me, even if they have as little fundament as my college's essays."

"No, it's not about that. I just wanted to tell you I'm sorry."

A laugh escaped Karen's throat.

_What is happening? This whole thing feels like a fever dream. Am I drunk again?_

Her headphones began to vibrate. Karen ignored the call.

She already had lost count of how many times Charleston had called her.

"I won't ask you to forgive me, but I still want you to know that I'm sorry." Old Man Jenkins continued. "I was always such a mean neighbor to you."

"Yes." Karen said without a trace of resentment or malice. "That you were, old man."

"I envied you, you know?" Old Man Jenkins put his hands on his chest and closed his eyes. "When you first arrived at the building, all I saw was this lonely, rude missy that seemed to be as disappointed with life as I was. In a way, it was comforting to see there was someone else in the building that was just as miserable as me. I still remember the first thing you said to me. _Out of my way loser, I have a laser gun!"_

"I wasn't the friendliest person back then." Karen said. "I'm not sure if that has changed."

"You changed." Old man Jenkins opened his eyes and pointed at the headphones on her lap, "you did the moment you started wearing those ugly things, and that's what made me so angry. You stopped being bitter about everything and started to enjoy life, you started to be happy. You moved on to a better phase of your life instead of being stuck in one forever. You managed to do in a few years what I never managed to accomplish in my whole life."

In a million years, Karen never would have thought someone would envy her.

The other women certainly didn't envy her looks.

Her coworkers didn't envy her salary, which was decent but not impressive.

How could she have known her long-distance marriage and daily conversations with her husband affected her grumpy neighbor so much?

"That old building really needs soundproof walls." Karen accidentally said out loud.

Old mand Jenkins cackled at her comment. It was the most genuine sound Karen had ever heard from him.

_Hey, old man_. Karen laughed together with him. _If you make me cry, I'll make you pay. I really do have a laser gun._

"You're much more than just a rude missy, you know? I regret it took me this long to realize that."

Karen couldn't speak. Another call from Charleston came in.

This time, Karen didn't feel it.

_Hey, old man…_

"I regret many things, but at the very least, I'm glad you gave me the chance to talk to you one last time. That's good enough for me. Thank you, missy…Karen."

_I forgive you. You know that, don't you?_

"Go live a happy life without regrets, okay?" Old man Jenkins said with the little strength he had left. "I almost forgot. When you see your husband, tell him I said hi."

* * *

Karen was sitting on her bed. She hadn't moved much ever since she had returned from the hospital.

A few of the other neighbors had asked her about the commotion, but she had answered them only with them 'yes', 'no' and 'I don't know'.

She hadn't changed her clothes, and the makeup from the previous day was already all caked up on her cheeks and under her eyes.

It was midday. She had to message her boss and tell him she wouldn't go to work that day, but by then that should be obvious.

Her headphones laid on her lap. They had been silent for a while now.

Karen didn't if that was comforting or troubling.

It was the first time she had ignored Charleston's calls for so long without telling him a previous reason.

She usually only ignored him after they argued or when she was really busy. He too had his pride, and though it was very seldom that he did so, he didn't shy away from not answering her calls if he felt she had been too rude or cold toward him.

"Are you mad at me, Charleston?" Karen asked her headphones. "I bet you are."

It was the only thing she had been thinking about for hours.

Against her better judgement and despite her fears, she put on the headphones and made the call. She didn't expect him to answer.

A part of her wished he didn't, but at the same time…

"Karen?" he didn't sound angry at all. Karen tried to speak, but she could only answer him with a mumbled _'mhm'_, "What happened? Are you okay? I was so worried!"

Charleston sighed at her muffled and trembling answers. "You don't want to tell me? Are you angry with me?"

"No." Karen was amazed she managed to mutter that.

"Then what's the matter?"

"Nothing, I'm fine."

"Okay." Charleston started to say a word, but changed it for another in the last second. "Karen, we need to talk. I've been thinking about our reunion, and…"

"I've been thinking about that too." Karen's voice was so trembly that it sounded like that of a teenage boy.

"Really?" Charleston sounded hopeful.

"Yes."

"And what was your conclusion?"

"That we shouldn't meet. That's how you feel too, isn't it?"

Charleston was quiet for a moment. Karen knew thatwas what he had been thinking about. They were different in a lot of ways, but also similar in many others.

"It was, but now that I'm actually talking to you, I'm not so sure anymore."

"Me neither. I want to at least try." Karen said with a sad smile her husband couldn't see. "It would be better than to live always with the regret, right?"

"Wow." Charleston chuckled. "Did you get that one out a self-help book?"

_More like_, Karen thought as her tears betrayed her, _out of an old man._

"Karen?" In all their married life, Charleston could count with one hand the times she had heard her cry. The few times it had happened, it had been either out of anger or happiness. "Why are you crying? What's the matter, honey? It's okay sweetie, it's okay…"

_Hey, my sappy little fool_, Karen thought as her hiccups drowned her voice. She could hear Charleston's sniffs while he did his best to comfort her, _are you crying too? If you are, doesn't it make you feel better?  
_


	6. Mens sana in corpore sano, and more lies

_**Thanks to everyone reading and to Dreamer 1920, America's Got Fandom and Skillet-Writer for the reviews!**_

_**Enjoy!**_

* * *

The beach was always empty during dawn.

The water was too cold for the children to swim, the sun wasn't bright enough to give the adults their much-coveted tan, and most couples preferred to walk alongside the shore during the sunset.

That's what made it the perfect time to train.

"Hello everyone!" Larry announced with an electronic speaker. "And welcome to Larry's Intensively Generalized and Healthy Training! Don't let the name deceive you, I can assure you my training sessions are anything but light. At first, your body will scream and burn, but nothing of value comes without pain!"

Larry put down the speaker and smiled to his enthusiastic pupils.

Pupil, if he had to be honest.

_I posted more than 300 posters all around town…and only one person came_, Larry thought without letting his disappointment show on his face,_ I should take a marketing course online or something. Oh well, let's see what I've got to work with. _

Larry came closer to his only attendee and inspected him subtly as he greeted him._ Skinny, one-eyed and somewhat short. Reminds me of someone, this curious fellow. He'll have to work very hard to see results, but at least he seems to be motivated._

"Tell me dude, why're you here?" Larry asked him as he showed off his muscles "Do you want to put some muscles in your body? Maybe you want to have a better stamina? Or perhaps you're training to get into one of those fancy bodybuilding contests? I've won more than ten of them myself, you know. Just saying."

_I mean, I really doubt someone as scraggly as you would be accepted even in the lightest category, but I'm not here to judge…_

The other guy pumped out his chest and stomped one foot on the sand. "I'm here because I want to become a better version of myself…", he exclaimed to the sky. His voice was louder that Larry's when he had used the speaker, "…so I can finally meet my wife!"

"Meet your wife?" Larry asked, "like, meet her for the first time?"

"That's right, my overly exercised trainer." The other guy answered him with pride.

Larry squinted as he processed the information. "Makes perfect sense to me!" he shrugged. "Okay then! Given your complexion, maybe we should start with a muscle toning workout plan so you can put some meat on those bony limbs of yours."

"Bony? Who are you calling bony, you Neanderthal?!"

"You'll have to a follow a protein rich diet too. Are you fond of the idea of having raw eggs for breakfast?"

"Only if I can turn them into an omelette before eating them."

"Hey!" A happy, enthusiastic voiced interrupted them. Larry's grin widened when he saw that three more clients had arrived. "JimBob! I'm glad you decided to come. Sandy, I knew you wouldn't let me down."

He greeted them both with a high five before speaking to the last one, "Manward? Is that you?"

"No, I'm his equally handsome twin." Manward gave him a mocking smile, "Now, if _obvious question time_ is over, I'd very much like to begin with this free training session. I didn't wake up so early in the morning on my only free day just to have a walk on the beach with you, the lunatic duo over there and that weirdo."

"Free?" Larry's laughed as if he had heard the funniest joke. "Woah, easy there dude. I'm sorry to break it to you, but this session isn't free! The price is perfectly stated in the poster—"

"You mean this?" Manward took a folded poster from his pocket and showed it to Larry. It read _'come this Sunday morning to Larry's first LIGHT training session on the beach!'_ "Where's the price, _dude_? I can't see it."

"It's right—" Larry politely proceeded to point at the precise place. His eyes became wide opened, and he snapped the poster from Manward's hand. "Oh, no!"

_I was so eager about printing the posters, that I forgot to put the price beforehand! _ Larry fell to his knees, _If I had a dollar for each brain I don't have, I'd have a dollar! I'd have more money than I will gain this whole day! _

"Poor Larry. I knew there was something off about this whole 'free' thing." Sandy said, "I didn't bring any money with me. Don't you have something we could give him, JimBob?"

"Let's see." JimBob searched inside his pockets, "I found something! I still have some of these 5 percent discount coupons Mr. Slabs gave me. Do you think he'll like them?"

"Like them? I wouldn't give those to my worst enemy." Sandy replied, looking at the coupons with disapproval as she read the _'only valid at 4 in the morning' _part_._ "How does Mr. Slabs get away with this stuff?"

"Hey!" the stranger came to them. He had a fierce expression in his only eye. "Do you see what you just did? You made my personal trainer have a mental breakdown! You ruined this whole day for me!"

"Look pal, I don't know who you are, but you need to relax." Sandy told him. He was oddly familiar, but Sandy couldn't remember where he had seen him before.

_Wait a second_, she inspected the stranger closer, _Is he really…?_

"Hey Charleston!" JimBob waved his hand at him. Manward heard him and looked at Charleston as incredulously as Sandy. Even Larry stopped panicking and joined them in their indiscreet moment of shock. "I didn't think I'd find you here! Say, you look different today. A new haircut, perhaps?"

Charleston, a little intimidated by having so many eyes starring at him at the same time, folded his arms and turned his back on them. "That's none of your concern."

"Of course it's you!" Larry snapped his fingers, amazed he hadn't recognized him earlier, "I knew I had seen this wimp somewhere else before!"

"Wimp?!" Charleston turned on his heels and walked toward Larry with long, exaggerated steps, "That's it, though guy! Come on then, fight me!"

Charleston began to throw punches at Larry's abdomen.

"Hey, it tickles!" Laughed Larry. At first, he found it funny, but after three minutes, he pushed Charleston away from him using only one finger, "enough already. I'm sorry, you're not a wimp, alright? Talk about sensitive…"

Meanwhile, JimBob kept trying to decipher what the change in Charleston was. "I know! He's wearing a new shirt! We're just so used to see him with his green one that—"

"No, you nitwit." Manward told him after looking at his watch, impatient for the session to start. "He didn't cut his hair or changed his clothes. It's obvious!"

"Well, you didn't recognize him at first either, Manward" Sandy said.

"Neither did you." Manward rolled his eyes, "but after a while, it just jumps to the eye."

"What's so different about Charleston?" JimBob said, dying of curiosity, "Tell me, please!"

Manward ignored him and walked away. He sat down on the sand and plugged in his earphones. He ordered them not to bother him with their stupidity until the session started.

Slowly, the answer came to JimBob. He looked at Sandy with expectant eyes, and she nodded in response.

Together, they looked at Charleston. Larry had him trapped with one arm in a wrestling move he liked to call 'the idiot calmer'.

"He's not wearing his headphones." JimBob and Sandy said in unison. They realized it was the first time they had seen Charleston without them since they had met him.

"Do you think something happened between him and Karen?" JimBob whispered to Sandy. For some reason, the idea made him sad.

"Maybe. I have to admit I'm curious, but…" Sandy thought for a moment, and then added, "should we ask him?"

"I don't know. What if something really bad happened, and we just rub salt into the wound?" JimBob said.

"You're right. Darn it, I know it's none of my business, but now I really want to know." Sandy kicked a bit of sand in frustration. "I mean, it wouldn't hurt to ask him. You should just go for it, JimBob."

"Yeah, we should—hey!"

"Come on JimBob, you know Charleston and I don't really get along. Besides, you're the closest thing he has to a friend."

"You really think so?" JimBob hesitated. The mature part of him told that he shouldn't get his nose into other people's business. His curious part however… "Oh, alright. I'll ask him. What's the worst thing that could happen?"

"Okay everyone, listen up." Larry announced. He was carrying a stunned Charleston like a sack of potatoes in one arm, "I may not get paid, but we'll still proceed with the session as planned. We are already here, so we might as well just do it. It's not as if I had anything better to do anyway. We're starting in five minutes, so get yourselves ready!" He let go of Charleston, who landed on the sand with a soft thump. "You have spirit, little guy, I'll give you that. Maybe you have a future with my training sessions after all. For now, try to chill out a bit, okay?"

Larry laughed and moved to another spot to start warming up. Manward joined him, and Larry had to bite his tongue to not laugh at his overly dramatic warm up movements.

"I'll go join them." Sandy told JimBob. She then nodded at Charleston, who was now lying on his back with his eye closed. "Try not to be so obvious when asking him about Karen. Just act natural."

"That's the thing. When someone tells me to act natural—" JimBob tried to tell Sandy, but she was gone before he could finish, "that's when I act the most unnatural." He looked at Charleston and gulped, "Oh, barnacles."

The insult Frenchy had taught him helped him relax a little bit. After taking a deep breath and preparing the best of his smiles, JimBob went toward Charleston and laid down on the sand, in a position so that their heads were opposite to each other.

"So," JimBob said as he made an angel of sand with his arms and legs, "did you and Karen had a fight or what?"

JimBob couldn't see it, but Charleston's eye sprang open. "What?"

"I just want to know if that's why you're not wearing your headphones." JimBob continued, unable to stop his clumsy tongue.

Charleston couldn't believe what he was hearing. It would have been the rudest statement he had heard in his life if anyone else other than JimBob had said it.

However, there was something in JimBob's voice that countered his lack of tact. More than the insolent meddling of a gossip, his words sounded like the earnest curiosity of a child.

That was the only reason Charleston didn't grab a handful of sand and stuffed it inside his mouth.

"Ha! Wouldn't you like to know." Charleston said with a mysterious, insolent voice.

"I would." JimBob insisted. He bumped his head slightly against Charleston's "Come on!"

"And why would I tell an idiot like you anything about it? Give me a good reason, JimFool." Charleston folded his arms.

"Well, considering just a couple of days ago you told me, Manward and Mr. Slabs about Karen coming to town—"

"That was a shameful moment of weakness. I don't have those too often, you know." Charleston interrupted him as if JimBob was telling an embarrassing childhood anecdote. "Besides, I was having the worst hungover of my life…"

"So if we get drunk, would you tell me what happened?"

"Get drunk? Why on earth would I want to get drunk now, you idiot? Even less with you. I'm here to become a better version of myself for Karen, not to find a new drinking buddy. If I can't change my horrible inside, I must try to change my outside. And who knows, maybe when I change the later, the former will also improve."

"Aww, that's sweet! So you two didn't fight after all." JimBob chuckled. "I'm glad."

"Wait—" Charleston stuttered. "You cunning little fry cook, you tricked me."

"What? No, I didn't. You just said more than necessary." JimBob laughed.

Charleston grunted at that horrible sound. If only his body wasn't still recovering from Larry's calming wrestling move…

"I'm doing the same thing, you know?" JimBob said after he was done laughing.

"You don't know how much I wish I had Manward's earphones right now."

"For Sandy." JimBob said without listening to Charleston's taunt. Then, with a serious tone that Charleston had seldom heard from him, he said, "What Mr. Slabs said about relationships always being doomed to fail also upset me. He did say that it wasn't true for everyone, but still… I want to prove it's not true for me and Sandy."

Charleston felt the impulse of going through with his original plan of stuffing a handful of sand into JimBob's mouth. He prepared the sand and waited for the right moment for the surprise.

"Are you also following the _'Heathy mind in healthy body'_ philosophy so you can be better for Sandy?" Charleston asked him, just to keep JimBob talking so he could proceed with his evil deed. "I didn't—I didn't get that idea from a cheap self-help book I bought on the newspaper stand or anything!"

"Not really." JimBob put his hands behind his head, "I just want to do something together with Sandy and have fun. It may sound silly, but I think that as long as we both do things and enjoy ourselves together, everything will be okay."

Charleston frowned. Almost against his will, he let go of the sand. "You know JimBob," he said, also putting his hands behind his head, "there's nothing wrong about a moment of silence between two acquaintances."

"Are you telling me to shut up?" JimBob asked.

"Pretty much."

"Wow," JimBob said, "that's harsh. Hey, you haven't exactly told me why you're not wearing your headphones."

"You're right, and I won't."

"Oh, barnacles."

Luckily for Charleston, JimBob shut up after that.

_This idiot has such a childish understanding of things; and yet, what he says may have some truth in it._ Charleston thought as he instinctively searched for his headphones, only to touch his ears instead. _We'll be able to find fun in the things we do once we are together, right Karen? Nothing between us has to change. It'll be the same as before…_

Charleston would have spent the whole morning lying on the sand thinking about that if Larry hadn't blown his whistle and told them to form a line.

"Alright everyone, are you ready to begin?" Larry asked them as if he was talking to a big crowd.

"I'm ready!" screamed JimBob as he jumped in excitement. He was second in line behind Larry.

"I'll show you all how it's done." Sandy said, no less enthusiastic than JimBob.

"Whatever." Manward said. "This better work, Larry. Because spending time with these fools without getting something in exchange should be a capital offense."

"Let's start then. And you better not practice any more of your wrestling moves on me, you protein lover freak, or you'll feel my wrath!" Charleston said as he stretched his neck.

"Perfect! We'll start by running six kilometers around the beach!" Larry exclaimed, "Ready, set…"

"Did he just say six kilometers?" Charleston and JimBob asked at the same time.

"GO!"

Neither had time to get answer, and had no choice but to start running together with the others.

"This is easy." Charleston said surprised of how well he was able to keep up with the group. After a couple of hundreds of meters later, his opinion started to change. "This is torture!"

"I can't feel my legs!" JimBob exclaimed in despair. "Sandy, are they still attached to my body?"

"What a pair of losers." Manward scoffed. He was doing surprisingly good, and it maybe had something to do with the inspiration he gained from listening to his tuba tunes.

"Just keep going JimBob!" Sandy encouraged him. Judging by the smile on her face, she was having a great time. "This is amazing! It was a good idea to come!"

"Yeah…" JimBob turned his head to smile at her. His smile disappeared once he turned it again to the front. "Best idea ever."

"Come on everybody, let's go! One, two. One, two. One two!" Larry said to his group as the morning sun became brighter in the horizon. "Remember, if it hurts, it's good! Nothing good comes without pain! Say it with me!"

JimBob and Charleston did as Larry told them. They both thought of different things as they did so.

_I'll try my best to always enjoy the time I'm together with you, Sandy. Even if right now it feels as my legs were covered in boiling lava!_

At the end of the running line, Charleston did his best to keep up.

_If this helps me become a better version of myself, then I'll do it, Karen. _

His hands went straight to his ears. The absence of his headphones stung his heart, but he had to endure it.

They had promised they wouldn't wear them again until they met.

They also wouldn't call each other.

They did so as a cautionary measure, and as a symbol of their commitment.

_There's no going back now. Neither of us can turn back. Our meeting is settled. _Charleston thought while he screamed Larry's motto again together with the rest of his training group. _And when we do, I want to meet you as_ _my best self! The me you deserve!_

* * *

"Well," Karen said as she closed the book and tossed it on her desk, "that was the stupidest thing I've ever read. Zero stars out of five, would not recommend."

_The book says that if you're a nice and polite person, you also become more attractive to others! That author has a crazy imagination._

Karen thought about it for a moment, and wondered if maybe she was being too dismissive.

_I mean…yes, I've never been nice or polite, at least not in the strictest sense of the word. But I'm not unlikeable! My coworkers like me, don't they? They say hi and goodbye to me everyday. That's a sign of friendship, right?_

Karen looked at her coworkers. They were laughing and talking together. It came to her that she had never joined them before during one of their breaks, not even when they had invited her.

She always told them she was 'too busy to waste her time with them'.

_I do say that. But it's the truth! I'm busy with my own things, and I can't waste my time with their stupid, meaningless—Oh._

Karen looked at the book on her table. She grabbed it and cursed at the little thing as if it was her nemesis. _You win this round, you cheap, mainstream best-seller!_

She then threw it into the garbage. She had no more need of the physical copy now that the information was stored inside her mind.

_Besides, it would be embarrassing if the others knew that I bough it. Not that I care about what they think, though…_

"KAREN!" the booming voice brought a sudden silence to the whole office. One her coworkers that was drinking a glass of water choked on it, while other let out a small scream of fear.

They all went back to their respective desks and began to type without daring to look at their boss.

Karen had never understood why they were so afraid of him.

He acted mean and gave himself more importance than he truly had, but at the end of the day, he was just a grumpy old man.

She smiled to herself. _ You and him would probably would have gotten along very well, old man Jenkins._

"Karen!" her boss exclaimed again. "To my office, now!"

Karen stood up. Her coworkers stopped typing and stared at her. Watching her sass their boss every time he spoke to her was one of the most enjoyable aspects of their work.

What happened then took them all by surprise. Instead of throwing a witty one liner or a snide retort, Karen smiled meekly at her boss and nodded. "I'll be right there, sir."

_Am I doing it right? This how you're 'nice', isn't it?_ Karen gave the book in the trash bin a quick glance before going toward the boss' office. While she walked next to her coworkers, she smiled and waved at them as if she was a pageant queen on a parade. _Well, they certainly are looking at me in a different way. You better not disappoint me, you damn book!_

After she entered the office and closed the door, one of her female coworkers asked another.

"Hey, Fred. Was it me, or was Karen acting really weird?"

"Yeah, no kidding. It looked as if she was auditioning for a role in a soap opera. And she didn't say anything rude to the boss! What a downer."

"Should we ask her if everything is alright?"

"Nah, she probably would just tell us to go stick our long noses into somebody else's business. That, or she'd kick me in the leg…again."

"You're right."

Back inside the office, Karen sat down in front of her boss's desk. Her face was still frozen with the most charming of her smiles.

_My cheeks are killing me_. Karen thought as her boss looked at her as if she had something stuck between her teeth, _but I have to endure it. The book says a smile makes you more approachable and friendly._

"Someone is a happy camper today." Her boss said with a smug grin. "I wonder how much of that happy smile of yours will survive the news I have to tell you, Karen."

"Please sir, I'd very much like to hear what you have to say. Your opinion is important to me." Karen said with the same naturality of a robot. At least, she had repeated the quote exactly as it was in the book.

_I can't believe I just said that to this decrepit moron_. Karen thought. She had to held her hands together to keep them from going to her ears, _but I have to practice! I have to become a kinder person. I'll do it for you, Charleston. I want you to meet a kinder, politer and more affable Karen. I don't want you to meet the rude missy or the unapproachable wench of the desk in the farthest left side of the office. I want you to meet my best self._ _And if that means I have to be good to this idiot…_

"Is that right?" her boss said to her, convinced that she was mocking him. "Then I'll just say it. Karen, you're fired."

_Remember! Sometimes people will be mean to you, but that doesn't mean you have to be the same. The important thing is to act always with kindness and understanding, not matter how bad the situation is._

"Of course!" Karen said, her smile not wavering in the slightest. The voice inside her head kept repeating the teachings of the book.

_Remember! Always try to keep a cool head and understand the other's point of view. You don't have to get so angry that you demand an explanation from that stupid, old fool and then storm out of the office as if you were a hurricane, and then pull down the fire alarm like you did every time you came out of the principal's office in high school. That's not what a nice, likeable person does, is it?_

Karen stood up so quickly that the chair fell to the floor. Her boss looked at her in shock.

Karen was still smiling.

_Is it?_


	7. This could be us but we're tripping

**_Thanks for reading and to Dreamer1920 and America's Got Fandom for the reviews!_**

* * *

"And that's the end of my first LIGHT , and unwillingly free, training session. Hope you guys enjoyed it!" Larry announced to his exhausted team. "Don't forget to tell your friends and family about me. Seriously guys, help me become a fulltime trainer so I can finally quit that awful job at the Trusty Slab…no offense, JimBob and Manward."

"On the contrary, I couldn't have said it better." Manward said. He was almost as fresh as before the training had begun, "Well, of course I could have, but yours was a good choice of words too."

"None…taken…Larry" JimBob said with a hoarse voice and in between heavy breaths, like an old man deprived of his oxygen tank. "We…had…fun. Right, Sandy?..."He tried to smile, but he had a coughing fit so bad that he passed out on the sand.

"Anyway," Manward said as he stepped on JimBob and continued walking without a care, "I have to go now. See you in my nightmares, losers."

"We'd better go too, before he gets a sunburn." Sandy said. She picked up a snoring JimBob and carried him in her shoulder. "Thank you, Larry. Hey, if this works out and you end up having more training sessions, let me know! I haven't had so much fun in a while. Can you believe that coming here was JimBob's idea?"

"No way! I thought you had dragged him along. He doesn't really strike me as the exercising type. Huh, you learn something new every day. Will he be okay, though? I think this session of running six kilometers, swimming five laps from the shore to the buoy, climbing up the highest hill in town and then running all our way back here was a bit too much for him. Did I overdo it?."

"He'll be fine, he just needs some rest." Sandy said, hearing how JimBob sleep talked about how much fun he'd had, even if it had costed him his legs, his arms and pretty much all his body. "I don't think we'll be doing much more today other than staying at home and waiting for him to recover, though. Maybe I should call Patrick and tell him to bring those superhero movies he and JimBob like so much."

Sandy said goodbye to Larry again before going home. Once she was gone, Larry turned around and put his hands behind his head as he watched the dancing waves of the ocean. The beachgoers were more numerous now, and while he enjoyed all the attention his muscular body gained him, what made him truly happy was that his training session had been a success.

"Well, not totally. I didn't get paid." He muttered to himself while he winked at a group of laughing girls who were staring at him. "But they seemed to enjoy it, even Manward! That alone should make me worthy of an award."

He posed, impressing a group of tourists, who then began to take photos of him.

"Nice Job, Larry." He said as he changed into another pose that earned him a few gasps of surprise and admiration, "nice job indeed…wait."

He gently pushed away a few of his admirers and looked closely into the ocean.

The buoy.

Someone was clinging to it.

Larry squinted, and his blood froze.

"Charleston!" Larry exclaimed. He had forgotten completely about him, and he had been so invested in the training that he hadn't noticed his absence.

For how long had Charleston been hugging the buoy and struggling not to drown?

One hour? Two?

_Dammit! What kind of trainer am I?_

Before anyone could realize what was happening, Larry ran toward the shore and dived into the water. He swam at a speed that rivaled that of a dolphin. "I'm coming Charleston, hold on!"

He reached the buoy in what must have been a world record.

"I'm here dude, it's going to be—Charleston?" there was no one there. Larry sawn around the buoy, his eyes desperately looking for the skinny guy, but he was gone. "Charleston?! Oh, sh—"

He took a deep breath and dived into the sea.

By then, a few curious beachgoers had formed a group and were watching the scene as if it was a soap opera. Some of them were using binoculars and describing the scene to their worried fellows.

"This just in!" Out of nowhere, John Elaine appeared together with his faithful crew. Before continuing, he made sure there were no eccentric pirates around that would steal the spotlight from him, "A buff guy, infamously known as Larry the mobster in his youth, is attempting to rescue a man with only one eye from drowning like an idiot on international television. Will this former evildoer find his redemption by rescuing a stranger? Or is this the tragic end of an antihero? What will—Whoa!"

John Elaine fell to the sand as a cheery young woman and her group of friends pushed him away and stole his microphone.

"Hello, guys!" the woman and her friends cheered, "My name is Pearl, and I just wanted to invite all of you to my performance next week in the Beach Palooza! It's gonna be awesome! Right, girls?" The girls behind her cheered again, which earned them a thumbs up from the cameraman. "Oh, and by the way, don't forget to stop by at the Trusty Slab, the best restaurant in town! Come on by and maybe you can get my autograph before I become a celebrity! Right, girls? Girls?"

Sadly for Pearl, her friends were now together with the curious group that surrounded Larry and the newly rescued Charleston. Before Pearl could react, John Elaine took the microphone away and frowned at her.

Pearl just giggled as if it all had been an honest mistake before running to her friends.

"Darn it! Nobody respects reporters these days!" John said as he and his crew tried their best to make their way through the curious mob and get a good shot of the rescue, "at least that shot of the girls cheering will improve my ratings."

In the meanwhile, Larry was in a dilemma. He knew what he had to do to save Charleston, but he couldn't do it.

He had given a mouth-to-mouth many times before, especially in the summer he had worked as a lifesaver. He was fully aware that all that mattered was to save people's lives. He was not squeamish about the details.

That wasn't the problem.

What really bothered him was….

_This guy hasn't met his wife yet. I'm going to kiss him before she ever does!_ It was the only thing Larry could think about_. I'll ruin their special moment!_ _That's not cool! Then again, neither is drowning!_

"Dammit Larry, focus!" Larry exclaimed in frustration and, without realizing it, punched Charleston in the stomach with his two giant fists.

Charleston immediately straightened up and coughed up a mouthful of water directly to Larry's face. He coughed for a long while before he could speak again. "What happened? Where am I? Oh, I had the strangest dream! I dreamed I was on a training session with a bunch of fools and then—" Charleston shook his head and rubbed his eyes. He spat the remaining water in his mouth. "Well, at least it was only I dream. I think I'm just hungover again."

He smiled in relief, but reality hit hard when he became aware of the dozens of people starting at him. A few of them were holding up their cellphones.

Charleston's heart sunk to his stomach.

"Dude!" Larry put a hand on his shoulder, "you're okay! I'm so glad. For a moment there I thought you—"

"You gigantic idiot!" Charleston pointed at Larry and glared daggers at him. "It was you! You left me to—"

Larry covered his mouth.

He had a horrified scowl on his face; he managed to change it into a somewhat concerned smile before he looked at the members of the curious group.

He grabbed Charleston and carried him with one arm. "Poor guy, he swallowed so much sea water that he's delirious. I'm going to take him to a more secluded place so he can recover. Give us some space and don't follow us, okay? And stop recording and delete those videos! That's not cool, y'all!"

The ones that were recording blushed at his comment and did as they were told.

Out of respect for the unexpected hero, the members of the curious, meddling group quickly scattered and went back to their activities, though Larry's rescue would probably be their most interest anecdote to tell during diner in the months to come.

"Wait, no!" John Elaine exclaimed. He had just managed to reach the center of the group when it disbanded. All he could see now was Larry's back as he carried away a struggling Charleston. "Where are you taking him? Come back! He's my news! MY NEWS!"

He fell to his knees and cried. Another failed news coverage. It was the fifth that month.

The cameraman tried to comfort him, but he was too distracted by a match of volleyball where more of the players were women.

For him, that made their day at the beach a total win.

* * *

Larry barely had time to get inside his trailer before he lost control over Charleston.

"Put me down! I said put me down!" Charleston screamed as soon as he managed to get Larry's hand off his mouth after biting him.

"Alright!" Larry dropped Charleston in the couch and looked at the painful bite marks on his palm. "That really hurt! You're one annoying dude, you know that?"

"I almost died because of you!" Charleston coughed a few times. His already crimson face became even redder. "Don't expect me to thank you for this!"

"Don't put it like that." Larry's temper died out at the harsh accusation. "It was an accident. I wouldn't have left you behind if I had noticed your absence! I know I have a bad reputation but…"

"I don't care if it was an accident or not!" Charleston could barely talk, let alone scream, thanks to his constant coughing fits. "I ….hate….you!"

Charleston began to cough savagely. Larry let him be while he watched him in silence.

He waited for Charleston to calm down before throwing a towel at his face. Then, he went to the kitchen of his trailer. "You're going to be sick as a dog if you don't get warmer right now. Here, let me make you a tea. It tastes like rotten socks forgotten in a locker, but it will make you feel better."

"Who are you, my mom?" Charleston said, refusing to use the towel given to him.

"That would be a bit shocking, wouldn't it?"

"I wouldn't bother with that disgusting tea if I was you. I'm not going to drink it."

"Then don't drink it." Larry said as he brewed the water and added the spices. "You cursed five-year-old…"

"You incompetent, washout jock."

"You puny, one-eyed flea."

"You poor excuse for an ex-delinquent."

"Huh, I'll take that as a compliment." Larry laughed. Then, he looked at Charleston, "okay, are we even now?"

"Not in the slightest." Charleston replied. It was then that he realized how tired and cold he really was. He leaned against the couch and cover himself with the towel as if it was a blanket. "But talking to you is boring, so shut up."

"Fair enough."

While Larry was finishing the tea, Charleston inspected the place.

"What is this dumpster?" he said with disgust.

"I thought you wanted me to shut up." Larry rolled his eyes. He was pouring the tea in a cup that read _'#1 beach hunk'_. "It's where I live. Larry's Luxurious Lobby. Or LLL for short."

"Luxurious? Is this what you call this messy trailer? I don't want to know what you understand for 'disastrous' then."

"It's a work in progress. I can't do much with my current pay. Mr. Slabs is a good man, but I don't think he has forgiven me for poisoning him …I get paid below the minimum wage, dude."

"You poisoned Slabs?" Charleston said, slightly impressed. "You know, maybe you're not so bad after all. I still hate you for almost killing me though."

"Stop saying that. It was an accident!" Larry snapped at him after he handed him the cup with the tea.

"Well, you cause much chaos accidentally."

"It's like a curse, dude." Larry lamented.

"I'd say it's a blessing, but think whatever the hell you want." Charleston smelled the tea. The scent was so strong and disgusting that it made him gag. "What is this? It looks like a potion out of a witchcraft book! I think it growled at me!"

"I warned you."

"I'm not drinking this!" Charleston exclaimed, getting the cup as far away of him as he could, "if the sea water didn't kill me, this surely will finish the job!"

"Fine." Larry said, about to take the cup from Charleston's hand. "I hope you're ready to be sick in bed for the next two weeks."

Charleston hesitated, and took the cup back into his hands. "And who said I wouldn't drink it?"

"You."

"You think I'm scared of a stupid cup of tea?"

"Yes."

"Oh yeah?" Charleston stood up. The towel hung from his shoulders like a cape. "Then watch this."

In almost one gulp, he drank all of the disgusting brewage. Larry couldn't hide his shock.

_Ew! I would never do that, not even if they paid me one million dollars!_ He thought as Charleston finished the tea and smashed the cup against the floor as if he had won a drinking contest. _This guy is crazy!_

"That was sick, dude!" Larry said with a small hint of admiration. He looked down at the floor, "Oh no, that was my favorite cup. Well, the show was worth it, I guess."

"I said I'd do it! Charleston comes through again!" Charleston said with the pride of an athlete that just won a gold medal. "And I don't know what the whole drama about the flavor was about! That tea tasted like nothing. Perhaps a bit sweet, like cinnamon, and a dash of vanilla."

_What?_ Larry thought, so confused that he could only nod and agree with Charleston. _This guy's taste buds are a mess! Or maybe he just has a horrible taste in teas._

"I feel much better now." Charleston said. He then looked at his arms and legs, and his face became as angry as before, "hey, where are my buff muscles? You said your training would put meat in my bones and increase my stamina and I don't know what else!"

"Firs of all, you didn't even finish the training session." Larry said in the same way a stern teacher scolds a student, "Second…getting strong takes months, dude. You honestly didn't think one single session would be enough, did you? I make training routines, not miracles!"

Charleston didn't bother to answer. Instead, almost like a small kid, he folded his arms and pouted. "What a scam!" He kept quiet for a while, and added with concealed embarrassment, "did someone else fail to complete the training?"

"Nope." Larry shrugged. "Sorry."

"Not even JimBob?" Charleston asked.

"Not even JimBob. Sure, he passed out after we were finished, but—"

Charleston tried to stand up, but his legs failed him and instead he fell on the trailer's dirty floor. All he could see was the stained roof and Larry's concerned face looking down at him. He asked him something, but Charleston didn't listen.

His thoughts were too loud.

_Why? I tried my best, but I still could only do my worst! I failed, Karen. I couldn't do it, not even for you._

"I'm sorry, Karen." He said, without realizing he was talking out loud.

Larry heard him.

"Hey…" he said with a compassionate expression that sickened Charleston ", this really means a lot for you, doesn't it?"

"Did you figure that one on your own?" Charleston said bitterly. "And stop looking at me like that. You look hideous."

"You're awful, Charleston." Larry walked away and opened his fridge. He came back and picked Charleston up with ease, as if he was made of feathers. Without saying anything and before Charleston could question him, Larry put a cold can on his hands, "Here. Drink that the night before you meet your wife. The effects are only temporary, and it will make you hallucinate, but it will also make you stronger and help you gain muscle with little to no exercise."

Charleston arched his eyebrow and looked at the can. It was a protein infused milkshake, strawberry flavored.

"Are you serious?" he said, incredulous that it would work. He looked at Larry with suspicious eyes, "I don't get it. Why don't you just sell this on the market? You'd be stinking rich!"

"I tried." Larry remembered what a mess that whole situation had been, "but let's just say I was using some ingredients not allowed by the goverment, and my poor milkshakes had to be discontinued. I didn't know it was illegal, I swear."

"So now you just keep them inside your fridge or…?"

"No, this is the last one in existence. I wanted to keep it as a souvenir of yet again another redemption attempt that incredibly backfired, but you need it more than I do." With a darker tone, Larry whispered, "you can also think of it as my way of bribing you. After all, I didn't forget about you in the beach, did I? I didn't accidentally leave you in the buoy. It was all a big misunderstanding, right?"

Charleston thought about it.

Sure, telling the truth to everyone and watching Larry being chased by a furious mob for being so irresponsible would be hilarious.

Then again…

He looked at his body. The body he would have to train for months, maybe years, before seeing any results.

His reunion with Karen couldn't wait that long.

He knew what his priority was.

"Of course." Charleston said, pretending his leg was in pain, "I just forgot to do my warmups and had horrible leg cramps. It was a good thing my trainer Larry was there to save me."

Larry smiled. "Glad to see we understand each other."

They shook hands.

_I'm not doing anything wrong. I'm helping this guy have a great first meeting with his wife_! Larry thought as Charleston left his trailer. He was holding the milkshake close to his heart, _Sure, the means I used may be a bit shady, but I'm really just doing this to help them be happy. My reputations as a trainer is second to that. I just hope Charleston has a better hallucination resistance than Mr. Slabs…_

* * *

_Hey Charleston! I'm fired._

Karen stared at the text message.

She deleted it.

She typed it again and deleted it once more.

"It would be easier if I could just call you…" Karen muttered, putting her cellphone on the table. "But we made a promise, and I will keep it."

Their agreement prevented them both from calling each other, but they could still send small texts messages or images via their cellphones.

They had to be short and concise, and more than a real way of communicating important things, it was just their way to update their status to each other.

"Besides, I don't really want to trouble you with these kinds of news." Karen looked at her cold coffee and uneaten food. She didn't know why she had gone directly to that restaurant after being fired instead of going home. She wasn't hungry, and she hated the food they served in that place. "Damn, what a mess."

She remembered the way she had reacted when her boss told her the bad news. Everything the book had taught her became meaningless the moment her emotions took over.

She had screamed at him words that would make a sailor blush in embarrassment, and she had stormed out of the office without picking up her things or saying goodbye to anyone.

"I only had useless junk in my desk." Karen said, trying to convince herself she wasn't mad about it anymore. "And what if I didn't say goodbye to my coworkers? It's not as if they'll miss me anyway. I don't care about it at all."

At the very least she had managed to resist the impulse of pulling down the fire alarm.

_Wow, good job Karen. Keep it up, and maybe in ten years, you'll be a slightly affable and likeable person. _

"Oh, shut up me." She said to herself.

If she could see anything positive about her whole situation, it was that her boss hadn't fired for the correct reasons.

At least not totally.

"Oh, you old decrepit fool." Karen smiled without humor, "I didn't lose track of the Jet Pack or the Invisibility Spectacles 3000. See, it wasn't because of a mistake I made that they got lost." She took a sip of her ice-cold coffee, "I wonder if you'll ever realize I was the one that stole them in order to send them to my dear long-distance husband, just like I did with many other things. I'm surprised it took you this long to notice."

_Now that I think about it, I should have been put under arrest, not fired._ Karen closed her eyes, _which kinda raises the question of why I got so angry in the first place._ _In many ways, it was the perfect chance to prove I can be a kinder, better person. I could have just left the office without making a big deal; it's not as if I really had the right to be mad. And maybe saying goodbye to the others wouldn't have hurt. I know all that, and yet…I still acted as if I was the one being wronged. I screwed up._

Karen opened her eyes again and picked up her cellphone. She typed a message.

_I tried, Charleston. But it seems I'm cursed with always being myself, no matter how hard I try to change._

She read it, and laughed at the thought of how Charleston would react if she send it to him.

"Well," Karen said as she deleted it. "It's not going to happen."

She asked for the check, paid for her disgusting dinner and decided to go home. When she existed the building, she discovered the stars and the moon had already come out.

"Really?" Karen looked at her watch, "I stayed there the whole day? No wonder my body feels numb."

She walked to her home without really caring about the people around here. Just before she reached the apartment building, she stopped in a store nearby.

_This was a horrible day. I deserve a little treat, if nothing else_. Karen thought as she entered the store. _I hope they still have some of those shortcakes filled with cream and strawberries…Yes, here it is! And it's the last one too! Maybe this day didn't suck as much as I thought._

"_Bonjour, madame_!"

Karen screamed in surprise. She tried her best not to, but it was impossible not to feel surprised when you are caught off guard by a tall man dressed in a diving suit.

"Sorry! I thought you had seen me." The man with the French accent immediately apologized. He knelt to pick up the shortcake Karen had dropped and handed it to her. "I'm very sorry."

"Yeah," Karen said, looking at her now destroyed shortcake. "I'm sorry too. Thanks for making my day even better, Captain Nemo. This was just what I needed."

"Actually, my name's Jacques. My friends call me Frenchy though. It took me a while to realize why."

"You don't say." Karen said dismissively before putting the destroyed cake back in the stand before the owner saw her and made her pay for it. "Thanks for the insightful conversation. See you."

"Wait a second." Frenchy exclaimed. He showed Karen a bottle of beer he grabbed from the stand behind him. "You see, I'm promoting these new drinks. They are made with a special kind of kelp I recollect from a very singular place under the sea. Tell me _madame_, have you ever heard of Kelp beers?"

Karen accepted the bottle and grabbed it so hard that it almost shattered in her hand.

"Heard of them? They destroyed my marriage!" Karen muttered.

"What was that?"

"I said," Karen bit her tongue. "I said they taste good. They give one hell of a hungover though…"

"_Oui,_ just normal side effects." Frenchy laughed. "But you see, this is a new, improved version! Not only do they have twice the flavor, they are also guaranteed to allow you to wake up as fresh as rose in the morning. Trust me, I drank a few last night, and I woke up feeling great."

"You could have fooled me."

"_Pardon_?"

"I said that's incredible." Karen handed the bottle back at Frenchy. "Thanks for the offer, but…"

_But what? I just got fired, my marriage is doomed and I haven't eaten anything today! I said it myself, I deserve a treat! And since the strawberry shortcake is no longer an option…_

"On second thought," Karen said to Frenchy ", give me two six packs."

"Alright!" Frenchy laughed in amazement before handing the packs to Karen. "_Merci beacoup_…uhm…"

"Karen."

"Ah, just like her! What a coincidence."

"What?"

"Oh, nothing. Just thinking of some friends." Frenchy shrugged, "In any case, thanks for your support! Me and my boss will be forever grateful. You know, you even act a little like her!"

"Like your boss?"

"No! I meant Karen."

"Me?"

"No, the other one. The one that lives in the Chum Bucket."

"Yeah sure, whatever you say." Karen said as she turned around and left Frenchy speaking with himself. "You weirdo."

Karen paid for the beers and left.

"…and their marriage is so funny. I enjoy watching them quarrel from time to time. Hey, do you want to see a photo of them?" Frenchy prepared his cellphone. "Don't they look adorable? Hello? Karen?" But he was alone, "Damn, she left me talking with myself."

Far from being offended, Frenchy smiled under his helmet.

_That's something computer Karen would do. I wonder if I should introduce this new Karen to Charleston. I think they would get along very well! Oh, but he's already married to another Karen…too bad. Something tells they would have made a great couple._

* * *

Karen opened a bottle of beer.

Charleston opened a can of milkshake.

She didn't care that she had been fired.

He didn't care about Larry's warning about the secondary effects.

Karen didn't care if the French man had lied to her about the absence of hungover.

Charleston didn't care if he hallucinated all night long.

Both had only one thing in mind.

_Let's just have fun tonight and forget about everything else!_

Karen and Plankton exclaimed at the same time.

They reached to their headphones, and both drank harder when they didn't find them on their ears.

On their cellphones, they both had the last message they had sent each other. They were strangely similar, both in syntax and dishonesty

**_From Charleston to Karen: I had a great day, babe! I feel full of energy! I'm drowning in excitement to see you._**

**_From Karen to Charleston: I was on fire today, dear! Job was great! I'm feeling much better now. I can't wait to meet you!_**

As they drank, they shared one thought.

_Great, now I'm lying to you. I ruined everything. I'm not worthy of you. I'm sorry, honey. You deserved better. Instead, you're stuck with me. Maybe it would have been better if we… had…never…_

They collapsed on their beds at the same time.

Karen held the sixth bottle of kelp beer in her hand, Charleston held the third of the many cloned milkshake cans he had created out of the one Larry had given him.

Both their cellphones went into sleep mode and showed the same screensaver.

It was the photo Charleston had away taken from Frenchy.

The one that showed the little plankton and the underwater computer dancing together.


	8. Our inner voices are no wiser than us

_**Hello guys! Thanks for reading and thanks to Dreamer1920, Skillet-Writer and America's Got Fandom for the reviews! **_

* * *

A brave hero watches the city from the top of a billboard!

He has no idea how he got there, and he has no idea how to come down.

Just another night in the daily routine of Surface Land's favorite hero.

"Patrick Man!" he screamed into the night.

Without realizing it, the hero awakens three people with his thunderous voice.

"Patchy, what was that?" asked a parrot from his small bed on the book shelf.

"Don't worry Potty, it's just Patrick stuck in the billboard again." Patchy said to the parrot and yawned. "I'll call the firemen to get him down first thing tomorrow morning. Now, let's got back sleep."

"That works for me."

In a restaurant nearby, a drowsy, hallucinating man awakens.

"Woah, I'm feeling…great. But why's the roof screaming at me?"

"Charleston."

"Whoah! Who said that?"

"Me. Look behind you."

"Okay, that's creepy, but I'll do it anyway." Charleston turned around, but nobody was there. "Are you a ghost?"

"No. Come closer." Said the voice, identical to his. "Closer. Yes, that's it. A little bit more. Not so close, hey—HEY STOP! OUCH!"

Charleston felt a crunching feeling under his foot. He looked at his shoe's sole and found a small green stain. "Ew, I really need to clean this place. I think the cockroaches are becoming radioactive."

"I'm not a cockroach, you big idiot!" The green figure recovered his original form and jumped into Charleston's hands. Then, with a solemn voice, the small creature asked him "Charleston, have you forgotten me?"

"No, how could I?" Charleston said. "You're on my phone's screensaver. You're the sea creature Frenchy told me about, you're my counterpart. You're…Plankton."

"The one and only!" the creature on his hands laughed evilly. After he was done, he looked at his surroundings with increasing disgust, "geez, this place is almost as abysmal as the Chum Bucket."

"What?"

"Nothing, I just said that—that this place is almost as good as my own restaurant."

"You didn't say that. I may only have one eye, but I still can hear perfectly well." Charleston said, having the sudden need to squeeze the little critter for his impertinence, "do you know what I mean?"

The creature looked at him. "Actually, I do know what you mean."

"Really?" Charleston hugged Plankton against his chest, almost crushing him in the process. "Finally, someone that understands! I've been so lonely lately!"

"Dammit, stop that." Plankton pushed himself away from Charleston and jumped to slap him in the face. "You're me, so stop acting like a crybaby. Have some dignity!"

"You're right." Charleston blew his nose with a napkin and calmed down instantly. "Sorry about that."

"Yeah well, I don't forgive you." Plankton jumped from Charleston's hands to his desk and showed him his reflection in a handmirror. "I mean, look at you! You look pathetic!"

"Shut up, you small bean." Charleston said, grabbing the mirror and throwing out the window. "You don't know what I've been through these days."

"Let me guess, marital issues?"

"Are you a phsychic?!"

"No, I'm you."

"Oh, right…But, what would you know about these kind of problems anyway? You're just a single cell organism, most likely created by Frenchy's imagination after he smokes too much kelp."

"I'm very real. I'm so real that I'm married to a computer." Plankton shrugged. "Do you think it's easy being married to a piece of hardware?

"Do you think it's easy being in a long-distance marriage?" Charleston said.

"As a matter of fact, I do."

"Well, it isn't! Especially not when you and your wife get drunk ,and you both agree to meet each other just because in that moment it felt like a great idea. But it wasn't! It was stupid! Stupid like…like your antenna!"

"What do my antenna have to do with anything? Leave them out of this, you jerk!" Plankton grabbed his antenna and kissed them. "Don't listen to the big bad guy."

"I'm sorry, I just—" Charleston sighed and sat down on the floor. "We messed up. I tried to get better, but the only thing I could was drinking hallucinating milkshakes. And look at me now, talking to my hallucinated counterpart and throwing my stuff out of the window like a maniac. Karen will run away the moment she sees me, I'm sure…"

Charleston hugged his knees and hid his face on his forearms. A moment later, he felt he light weight of Plankton after he jumped on his head.

"That's not true." Plankton told him after giving him a few pats as if Charleston was a dog. "She'll run away after she sees how much of a loser you are. That's different."

"You want me to flush you down the toilet?" Charleston warned him with a serious tone.

"You're only mad because it's true." Plankton said, jumping to Charleston's knee. "And I should know. I'm you, remember?"

"Are you me as in _my inner self_ or as in _my counterpart_?"

"Both."

"Then boy, am I an annoying little piece of—"

"Language!" Plankton scolded him. With a mellower voice, he said, "look, I think you're overcomplicating things. You don't know for sure your Karen will leave you. Who knows? Maybe you two will end up living together, just like me and my Karen!"

"You think so?" Charleston asked with a glimpse of hope. "And are you two happy together?"

"Of course we are. We have our problems, but it's nothing too bad. We only fight every day, and she kicks me out at least twice a month, and I may have tried to replace her with a newer model once. I also kind of cheated on her, only a little bit, with Mr. Krabs's mother, and…wow, that sounded a lot better in my mind."

"Cheat…on Karen?" the sole idea horrified Charleston, and it got worse when he imagined the rest, "with Slabs' mother? Oh god, that mental image will haunt me forever. Thanks a lot, Plankton. I feel a lot better now! You make a great other."

"You're welcome."

"Do you sea creatures understand the meaning of sarcasm?" Charleston grunted at him. Then, without the energy to fulfill his threat of flushing Plankton down the toilet, he rested his chin on his other knee and looked at the small organism. "Whatever, just get out of here, you little pest."

"I can't." Plankton jumped to his shoulder and touched Charleston's forehead. "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere, my dear me."

"Are you acting all mysterious because you have run out of smart things to say?" said an unimpressed Charleston. He closed his eye. "Anyway, just shut up. I'm getting really tired now…"

"I know why you're acting like this." Plankton told him. "And all I have to say is that you're wrong."

Charleston opened his eye again, strangely intrigued by his words. "What are you talking about?"

"So what if Karen leaves you?" Plankton smiled at him. "It's not going to be the end of the world, is it?"

"It will be the end of my long-distance marriage, though…"

"So?"

"What do you mean by 'so'?" Charleston grabbed Plankton with his two hands and stood up, "That's the last thing I want to happen!"

"Again…so?" Plankton's only eye brimmed with conviction. "So what if the worst happens? So what if your marriage ends? So what if she hates you? Even without her, you still have much more in your life, Charleston!"

Charleston looked at his empty restaurant. "Oh really?"

"Yes."

"Like what?"

"I don't know…how about the secret sauce recipe?" Plankton said with a sinister grin. "You don't need Karen to get it, do you? Just like you don't need her to keep this restaurant going, and just like you didn't need her in your life before you met her."

"But—"

"But nothing! Stop worrying about her for a second and wake up, okay? You don't need her to keep going with your life. If she leaves you, then good riddance! Who knows, maybe it's best for the both of you if that's what happens. Think about it, you'll miss each other at first, but time heals everything. You'll get over her, just as she'll get over you…I even dare to say she'll beat you to that! Eventually, you'll both find something better, maybe even _someone _better. Don't you think she deserves someone better, Charleston?"

Charleston loosened his grip on Plankton and scooped him on his hands. Maybe there was wisdom in what he said. Plankton laughed and then pointed back at the desk, directly at Charleston's headphones.

Almost in a trance, Charleston picked them up. He caressed them and tried to put them on, but his hands were frozen.

"You know what you must do, don't you?" Plankton, now only a voice, whispered in his ear.

Charleston looked at his broken window. The headphones made cracking sounds under his stiffened fingers.

"Go ahead." Plankton said before he vanished. "You know as well as I do that this for the best. And I am you, just like you are me."

* * *

Meanwhile, in a city far away, a drunken woman stared at the window of her apartment, unaware that her long-distance husband is doing the same thing.

In the sky, the sun was starting to come out.

"Do it, Karen." The computer with her voice said to her. "It'll make you feel better."

"Are you sure?"

"It's only logical. You've been so worried about Charleston not liking you even when you always knew what the answer to that question was."

"You mean…_'no'_?"

"Precisely. Stop lying to yourself and just accept the facts. You're good at doing that."

Karen looked at the imagined computer. She couldn't argue with her.

"Trust me, the sooner you accept it, the sooner you'll be able to relax. It will be like the relief you feel after finally confessing a long-lasting lie."

"But, what about taking a chance? Will I not regret this forever?" Karen clinged to the headphones with all her strength as the fading memory of the old man crossed her mind.

"I don't know, I'm a computer. I make calculus, not prophecies, but something tells me you won't." The computer said.

"And what is that_ something _you talk about, if I may ask?" Said Karen, very unconvinced.

"Mostly, it's the kelp beer." The computer replied. He came so close to Karen that her screen almost touched her face, "will you dare to question the kelp beer, Karen?"

Karen opened her moth in horror. "Never! _One does not question the kelp beer! One does not question the kelp beer!_"

She kept on singing the beer's jingle as she launched the headphones through the opened window as if she was a pitch launching the winning ball of a game. A few seconds later, a man in the streets screamed "My leg!", but Karen didn't care.

Back at the Crumb Basket, Charleston did the same. He danced in victory after his pointless deed, unaware that Patrick Man watched the headphones coming out of the restaurant and confused them with a fleeing thief.

He would have gone after him, if he only knew how to get down the billboard.

"I did it!" Karen and Charleston cheered in unison. "I'm free…We are free! Free! Fre—"

They passed out at the same time, an incident that, for some reason, coincided with the rude awakening of a plankton under the sea.

"What in Neptune's name was that? Karen?"

"Isn't it a bit early for you to interrupt my sleep mode, Plankton?"

"Did you, by any chance, have a dream about connecting cosmically with a weird-looking, headphones-wearing fish from a distant land?" he asked, still disturbed.

"Now that you mention it…No, I didn't." Karen said after making a beeping sound. Softly, she whispered, "Gosh, I have to defragment my hard drive ASAP."

"Oh. Neither did I" Plankton said, decided to go back to sleep. Softly, he muttered, "Man, I really have to stop watching those horror movies before going to sleep…"

* * *

JimBob whistled happily as he walked down the street. It was just another beautiful morning in his dear town. He stopped near a group of firemen and policemen.

"Good morning!" he said to them. "How are you doing today, brave men of the law?"

"Hello JimBob!" One of the two officers said, "you know, just helping an idiot coming down the billboard. Nothing out of usual. This is the third time this week, if he keeps this up, I'll have him locked up for a few days."

"Oh, I'm sure he means well." JimBob said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Well, I have to go. Those Slabby Patties won't cook themselves."

Just before JimBob could continue with his cheery walking, a screaming, hysteric man appeared out of nowhere. He was frantically looking for something everywhere possible.

Under the cars, inside the trash bins, amidst the bushes, even under the officer's hats and the firemen's helmets.

"Hey you, Charleston!" One of the officers told him, "you better get out of here before I arrest you for impudence against the law!"

"Is that even a crime?" his partner whispered to him.

"I don't know, just play along!"

Charleston ignored them. Instead, he kept on looking for whatever he was searching for until his quest took him to look underneath JimBob's shoes.

"They're not here either!" Charleston said, punching the pavement with his fists. "They're not anywhere! Where are they?!"

"Charleston, what's wrong?" JimBob asked him with great concern.

"They are gone, JimBob. My dears are gone!" Charleston said. He cried for a bit before adding, "and to make things worse, I won't get any benefit from the protein milkshakes I drank. I threw them all up this morning, just like I threw my dears out the window! What kind of long-distance husband am I?"

"Did you just say, 'protein milkshakes'?" the officers asked. One of them was already preparing the handcuffs to take Charleston into one of his recurring visits to the local prison. "The illegal, hallucination inducing protein milkshakes?"

Charleston's face lost all its color. He managed to get up and run away before the officers had a chance to arrest him. As he ran along the street, his laments echoed across town. "My dears are lost! My dears are lost!"

"Charleston wait!" said JimBob, but he was only able to see how he disappeared into the distance.

"Shouldn't we go after him?" the officer with the handcuffs asked his partner.

"And miss the opportunity to meet that beautiful chick from the news in the Trusty Slab today?" the other answered with a smile, "not in a million years friend."

The two of them shared a high-five.

Meanwhile, JimBob kept staring down the street. His mind couldn't stop thinking about Charleston.

_Did he really lose his headphones? Poor Charleston, he sure seemed devastated…_

_"_Excuse me," someone pocked his shoulder and made him lose his train of thought. Jim Bob turned around and found Patrick being carried in the arms of a fireman, whose face clearly read _'I didn't waste many years in the academy training for this!'_ "Do you know this man?"

"Hello JimBob!" Said Patrick, dropping the persona of Patrick Man, like he did every morning just after the sun rose.

"Patrick!" JimBob exclaimed in surprise and happiness, "Don't worry officer, I'll take him from here."

"Good." The fireman said with a tired voice before dropping Patrick into JimBob's arms and making him collapse under Patrick's weight. "I'm out of here. Next time your pal here decides to play vigilante, make sure he stays out of high places, okay?"

In less than a minute, both the officers and the firemen were gone.

"Being a hero is hard, but it makes me happy." Patrick said as helped JimBob stand up, "it also makes me hungry. Let's go to the Trusty Slab, JimBob! Can it be your treat again? I'll make sure to pay you when I get my hero's payment tomorrow, someday…eventually."

"Of course," JimBob, trying to sound as merry as possible.

"What's wrong?" Patrick looked at his friend with a sad face, "is your underwear too tight?"

"No, my underwear is fine, Patrick, "JimBob said with a sad sigh, "it's just that…Charleston was here just a moment ago and he looked very upset. He said he lost his headphones."

"Nah," Patrick said while picking his nose, "he got robbed last night. I saw it with my own eyes! I tried to stop the thief, but this stupid billboard wouldn't let me go."

Patrick walked toward the post and began to punch it. "See what you caused, you foul villain?"

He continued to take his anger out on it until JimBob made him stop. The fry cook held Patrick's hands in his own, "Patrick, are you sure?"

"Yeah, the billboard is EVIL!"

"No, I mean about Charleston being robbed!"

Patrick thought for a second.

"Yes, "he said with so much convincement that even the officers would have believed him, "as sure as water is pink."

"I'm pretty sure water is clear, Patrick."

"Not in my bathtub."

"Anyway, that's not what's important," JimBob put his arm around Patrick's shoulders, "What really matters is catching that culprit and getting Charleston's headphones back! For him, losing those things is almost like losing his wife!"

"Charleston has a wife?"

"He may be an evil guy, but no couple deserves to be separated in such a horrible way. I won't let them share that fate!" JimBob heroically put a hand on his chest. "Once I'm done with work today, I'll join you tonight in your heroic crussade, Patrick! Meet me outside the Crumb Basket at ten o'clock. It's time for this fry cock to be a hero too."

Patrick smiled at his friend. "Do you mean…"

"Yes." JimBob changed his normal glasses for pair of sunglasses, "it's time for Jimmy Boy to come back! For Charleston, Karen, their long-distance marriage and their awaited reunion!"

"Yeah, let's do it for the fireman that saved me!" Patrick cheered together with his friend.

"Remember your mantra Manward, "said Manward as he passed next to them on his way to work, "if you don't look at them, they don't exist. If you don't look at them, they don't exist…"


	9. The culprits and the shattered photo

**Thanks a lot for reading and to Dreamer1920, Skillet-writer and America's Got Fandom for the reviews!**

* * *

"I'm sorry, Fred." Karen said with her eyes closed as the elevator went up. Her head was clear, and she felt as rested as if she had slept the eight recommended hours in a cozy, warm bed. The weird man with the French accent hadn't lied to her about the beer's lack of side effects. That little true was the best thing that had happened to her in the last days. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I mean, yeah I've kicked you in the leg many times before, but I swear that it wasn't my intention to hit you with my headphones while you were riding your bike and land you in the hospital…Damn, this has to be the worst apology ever."

She opened her eyes and looked at the glowing numbers in the wall. Only a few floors left before she reached Fred's room.

_I hate hospitals_. Karen remembered Old Man Jenkins, but her mind went instantly back to her injured ex-colleague. _And I didn't even buy him a present! Maybe some flowers, a box of chocolates, a teddy bear or one of those stupid balloons with corny one-liners written on them! _

Karen punched the wall.

It wasn't that she particularly liked Fred. He was clumsy beyond belief, and his overly sociable personality had driven her crazy many times.

But he had always been nice to her, and the only reason he had been riding his bike near to Karen's apartment that day was to deliver her a box with all her possession she had left in the office after being fired.

_That idiot. I didn't ask him to do that. In a way, it's his fault this happened. How the hell was I supposed to know the headphones I threw out of the window would hit him in the leg and cause him to crash against a hot-dog stand? Your cursed with bad luck, Fred._

Karen touched her ears.

The absence of her headphones upset her a lot more than what she had done to Fred.

"I'm awful." Karen said as the doors opened.

She hesitated for a moment. By the time she decided to step out of the elevator, the doors were already closing. She managed to slide by, but at the cost of one of her shoes.

"Actually, Fred," Karen said with annoyance as she stared at her naked foot, "I think the one cursed with bad luck is not you after all. Whatever, these shoes are uncomfortable, and I only wore them for work anyway. In fact, to hell with the other one too!"

Karen took out the other shoe and dumped it in a trash can.

"What are you looking at? Haven't you ever seen a pair of feet in your life?" She said to some nurses and patients that stared at her as she walked toward Fred's room. "Well, I'm here to make that dream come true!"

She kept on walking with exceeding confidence as the others cleared out of her way with disapproving scowls on their faces. "What are you going to do about it? Put me under arrest?" Karen laughed as she turned around the corner.

Her insolent smile froze on her lips and vanished when she saw her ex-boss talking with an actual police officer outside of Fred's room. Karen retreated back and slammed her back against the wall. "Me and my big stupid mouth!"

The quietude of the hospital allowed her to hear them clearly.

Karen tried to relax. Nobody except her troubled conscience and tricky intuition told her they were talking about her.

"…you need to calm down, sir."

"I tell you! She had something to do with this! I just know it! Not only did she cost me a lot of money while she was working for my company, now she also hurts my best employee!"

_Fred? Your best employee?_ Karen thought. _I actually take offense to that, old coot._

"I know you're upset, but you need to understand that accusing someone without evidence can get you in big trouble." The officer said.

"Fred was hurt while he was near her apartment!"

"That's circumstantial."

"The find some evidence, dammit!"

"I'm not a wizard, sir. I can't just—" the officer's radio made static sounds. He answered it and spoke with his partner for a moment. "Huh, what do you know. I think we actually found something, but I'm not sure it involves her…"

"What? What did you find?"

"Just a pair of ugly headphones. They were found close to the scene of the accident."

Karen's blood froze.

"Do they have ugly antenna sticking from the ear pads?" her ex-boss asked.

"Yes."

"They're hers! She sometimes wore them to work. I knew it! I knew she was responsible for all this!"

Karen started to walk away. Her shoeless feet became an advantage. They made her steps silent and discreet.

"We still can't—" the officer said, but Karen's ex-boss gave him no quarter.

"Forget about Fred's accident! If you won't investigate her for it, then I want her investigated for the continued stealing of my artifacts! I checked her computer this morning before coming here, and what I found on it should be enough to land her in jail!" his voice echoed in the hallways. "At first, I thought she had just been careless and had lost the artifacts, but she's just a crooked thief! I want her arrested now, you hear me? NOW!"

Karen started to run. People stepped out of her way out of fear of crashing against her. The voice of her ex-boss echoed across the hallways.

The elevator had never felt so far away. Karen managed to enter it just before it closed. She ignored the surprised stares of the people inside and quickly pushed the button of the first floor.

She left the hospital running at a speed she didn't thought possible. The increasing sores and cuts on her feet didn't bother her.

She couldn't even feel them.

"Taxi!" Karen forced the car to stop by technically jumping in front of it.

"Heavens woman, are you crazy?!" the taxi driver asked her. Karen ignored him and got inside the cab. "Oh no, I don't give rides to escaped patients from the loony bin."

"Shut up and start driving!" Karen exclaimed so loudly that the taxi driver cowered back into his sit and stepped on the accelerator.

"Help! I've been kidnaped by a crazy woman without shoes!" he cried to his radio. Unfortunately for him, his fellow taxi drivers didn't believe him. That's what he got for playing that prank on them at least twice a week.

"I'm not kidnapping you, you moron." Karen said, twitching her mouth a little. Now that her adrenaline had dropped, her feet were starting to burn. "Just drive. I'll pay you double if you make it fast, okay?"

"Really?" The taxi driver calmed down. "Why didn't you say so? I'll be your loyal steed, lady!"

"Keep quiet and step on it." Karen said as she looked behind her. She was sure she could hear the patrol's sirens, and she wasn't going to wait to see if they were real or just a trick of her imagination.

_I messed up again. _Karen thought as the taxi took her away from the hospital and closer to the building apartment. _My luck is awful. I'm awful. In every single way. _

* * *

"No!" Charleston screamed.

Now he knew he wouldn't see his headphones ever again.

The truth hit him a few moments after the crowd of people around the Trusty Slab cheered when they saw someone stepping out the establishment.

"Alright everyone, settle down!" Slabs said to them. "Pearl will be here any minute. In the meantime, why don't you order a Slabby Patty? In celebration of my beautiful daughter's first autograph session before her investable road to fame, we have a special offer today! Order two Slabby Patties, and get one packet of ketchup for free!"

The crowd cheered, this time louder, though not because of Slab's awesome offer.

Pear had just arrived in her convertible together with her friends. She waved hello to her fans as her father went next to her and put a protective arm around her shoulders. He too waved and smiled as he walked together with Pearl to the entrance of the Trusty Slab. His smile made him look like the friendliest guy in town, but his eyes read _'get too close to my daughter and I'll turn you into today's special!'_

Charleston didn't care about that whole event. On the contrary.

He resented it with all his heart.

It was thanks to that rowdy crowd Slabs' daughter had summoned that his dear headphones were lost to him forever.

"I hate you all!" Charleston screamed at them before slamming the door of the Crumb Basket behind him. They were making such an uproar about Slabs' daughter that he doubted they had heard him. He didn't care. In that moment, he didn't care about anything else but the headphones that had disappeared from his life in the wink of an eye. "Dammit!"

He kicked a bucket, hurting his toe in the process.

"Ouch, stupid bucket! I'll destroy you too!" he said. He sat down on one of the chairs of his always empty tables and put his injured foot on his knee.

He stared into the distance, his mind replaying the fateful memories clearly before his eyes.

After searching like crazy everywhere since six in the morning, Charleston had returned three hours later to the Crumb Basket after almost being arrested again.

There, to his surprise and joy, he'd found a large cat with a collar. He was chewing on his headphones right at the entrance of his restaurant.

"So it was you! You were the one that took them!" Charleston screamed at the cat. The animal had flattened his ears and looked at him with his eyes wide opened. "You think you can take the thing I cherish most and use it as your personal toy? Not in a lifetime, you fleabag."

Scared of the sight of Charleston's hand reaching toward him, the cat had run away with the headphones in his mouth.

"Hey stop!" Charleston screamed, not realizing that his voice only made the cat run faster. In a desperate attempt, Charleston had launched himself toward the cat as if he was a football player trying to score a touchdown. "Gotcha!"

He rolled on the floor with the cat in his arms until he came to a sudden stop. "Now give them back before I take you to the animal shelter! Ouch, mind the claws!"

After a few moments of struggle, the cat had finally let go of the headphones.

"Yes, victory's mine!" Charleston laughed, raising his headphones up in the air as if they were a newly earned trophy. They escaped his hand after feeling the burning sensation of the cat's teeth against his arm. "Curse you, cat! You better not have rabies!"

Now free, the cat turned around and hissed at Charleston.

"Oh yeah?" Charleston said before hissing back at the cat. That was enough for the animal to accept defeat and run away. "That's right, and don't you come back!"

When Charleston had tried to grab his headphones again, he discovered they were no longer on the dry grass.

"What?" Charleston began to look for them desperately with his eye. "But they were here just a second ago! Where—"

He found the culprit standing right in front of him. The enemy seagull carried the headphones in its beak.

Its expressionless black eyes stared at Charleston.

"You!" Charleston was about to raise his fist when the rational side of his mind he seldom listened to stopped him.

Catching a fleeing cat was difficult, but not impossible.

Catching a flying bird, however…

_Slowly. I have to do it slowly._

With calculated movements, Charleston managed to get his hand inside his pocket. "Hey, birdie. Do you like crumbs?"

The bird jumped once in its place and fluttered its wings. Luckily for Charleston, its curiosity for the food overcame its instinct to escape.

After a few seconds of doubting, the bird came closer to him.

"They're really tasty." Charleston muttered to the bird as he opened his hand. "You can have all you want. But first, you must give me back those. It's a good deal, isn't it?"

The seagull was so close to his hand than Charleston could feel the soft touch of its feathers. He began to prepare his other hand to snatch the headphones from the bird's beak before it was too late.

"Eat some crumbs." Charleston said. "They're good for you."

Just before he could complete his plan, the crowd around the Trusty Slab had cheered. The seagull's surprise made it lose interests in the food, and it had flown away so quickly that soon it became only a tiny, distant spot in the sunny sky.

"No!" Charleston screamed again inside the Crumb Basket. He covered his mouth and stomped his injured foot against the floor. "It's those animals' fault!"

He stood up and kicked the chair. He could hear the crowd cheering again as Pearl gave a speech about her future performance in the Beach Palooza.

"It's also those hormonal morons' fault! And Slab's, and his daughter's! And everyone's!"

Charleston walked in circles as he continued to curse every person that came to his mind.

"And especially—" he said just as his eye became fixed on the photograph Frenchy had given to him. He grabbed it and looked at it with disdain. "It's your fault, you single-cell loser. You caused all this! Look at you, dancing all happy with your computer wife."

Charleston tore the photo into half, and then into pieces.

"Who's the loser now?" He said as he threw the destroyed photo to the ground. "Well, tell me! Who's the loser now?"

Charleston felt a fleeting feeling of satisfaction that died down the second he looked at pieces scattered over the dusty floor.

"Who's the loser now?" he asked again in a whisper.

His anger began to evaporate. It soon was replaced by numbness.

He leaned against the wall and stayed still for a long while.

_I messed up again._ Charleston thought and chuckled bitterly. _That should have been my senior quote._

He walked to the window and looked at the happy crowd outside. Pearl was starting to take photos and giving autographs to her new fans. Slabs looked at his daughter with the same love he looked at money.

Perhaps even more, Charleston dared to say.

_I don't think I could ever make Karen that happy._

He turned his back on the window, already sickened by that sugary display. The scene now before him was the complete opposite.

An empty, dirty and forgotten restaurant that had never seen a single costumer.

"A home fitting for a loser like me." Charleston said. "But not for someone like you, Karen."

He took out his cellphone and typed he message he didn't intend to send.

_Is this really all this loser can offer you?_

* * *

"Hey, old man." Karen said as she carefully put down a bouquet of flowers, a teddy bear, a box of chocolates against the door and tied a balloon that read _'Rest up!'_ on the door's knob, "yes, I know you probably would have hated all this stuff, especially the chocolates since they have sugar. And yes, I know the other neighbors will most likely just steal all these things the moment I leave, but give me a break. It's the best I can do right now, okay? Time and luck haven't exactly been on my side lately."

Karen gently finished tying up the balloon and looked at the door of the now unoccupied apartment. She picked up a hefty bag. "I'm sorry I didn't do any of this sooner. I'm also sorry I haven't thought of you much either. I'm not good at dealing with this kind of stuff. I'm not good at anything to be honest, but I don't think that's an excuse…"

She sighed. "I'm leaving this place for good. It probably would have made you very happy. Knowing you, you would have thrown a party to celebrate. _'Karen's departure party'! _Come on, we both know that's exactly what you would have done." Karen laughed and touched her ear with her free hand. "And not just the building. I think it's best for me to leave town altogether. I really made a mess out of things this time. Usually, I don't think I would have cared. I never have, but now I do. It's weird. Don't you worry, what I feel it's not regret exactly. If I have to be honest, it feels more like…disappointment."

Karen waited for a moment before continuing. She knew her taxi's fare would be colossal by then, but she didn't care. She had enough money with her to live peacefully for a few days.

"Is this really the best version of myself?" Karen said, "I'm sure it is, and it's dreadful. I get fired, I lie to my husband, I get drunk, I lose my headphones, I hurt a guy that was just trying to be nice with me, and now I'm on the run from the police, all that in a couple of days. Oh, and I'm still as unlikeable as ever. I'm quite the catch, huh?"

Karen scratched her head. "But I'll still do it. I'll meet my husband. I know he deserves better, but I'm all there is. I want him to know that once and for all. Then, maybe he can—"

Karen swallowed.

_Wow, I'm such a downer. But I have no time for self-pity right now. I have to go before the police gets here._

"This is a crummy farewell; you don't have to tell me that." Karen put a hand on the door and smiled. "Rest well, okay? And don't worry, I haven't forgotten about what you said at all. I'll say hi to Charleston on your behalf. You know, I think that's the other reason I'm still willing to go through all this." Karen stepped back from the door. "Goodbye, old man."

Once back in the taxi, Karen wondered where she should go next.

The airport may seem like the obvious choice, but her flight to Charleston's hometown was scheduled for next week. She had bought her ticket for the exact day of the Beach Palooza.

_That stupid festival attracts more people than I thought! I can't believe there are no more flights available! This wouldn't be so bad if, you know, the police weren't so close on my heels!_

"Hey lady, are we going somewhere, or do you just want to make me rich?" the taxi driver asked as he happily glanced at Karen's fare. "I swear, if I had more clients like you, I could retire and play golf for the rest of my life in a couple of months!"

"Shut up, I'm thinking." Karen replied. "You lazy bum."

_I could go and hide in a hotel. I have the money, but I don't want it to dry fast. Besides, it would be only a matter of time before the police found me. Come on Karen, think! Hey, undersea computer. If you showed up right now and gave me some advice, I'd appreciate!_

"Would you look at that," the taxi driver laughed as he looked in the outer mirror. "Looks like one of your neighbors is about to have a taste of some police brutality."

Karen thoughts shattered. She looked over her shoulder and watched two policemen entering the building.

"Boy, do I pity that poor bastard."

"Start the car and drive."

"I'm sorry?"

"START THE DAMNED CAR AND DRIVE!"

"Okay!"

Screaming, the taxi driver obeyed Karen. He pressed the reverse and crashed against a hot dog stand, destroyed a fire hydrant and bumped against the patrol before incorporating into the traffic.

"Are you kidding me?!" Karen spat at him.

"I'm sorry, but you made me nervous. You're scary, lady!" He said, barely containing his tears. He reached to his radio again, "Guys, seriously! I'm trapped with a crazy woman! And now she's wearing shoes! SHOES!"

Once more, no one took him seriously.

"Get a hold of yourself before you kill us both with your driving!" Karen said.

"Okay, but please don't hurt me. I have a Komodo dragon to take care of." The taxi driver took out his wallet and showed Karen the photos of his beloved pet. "Please, don't make this baby an orphan! Look, I won't even charge you."

"What are you talking about?" asked a confused Karen as the taxi driver reseted the fare back to zero, "I'm not going to—"

She halted her tongue.

_I don't know where this paranoid fool got the idea I wanted to hurt him, but since he seems so eager to give me a free ride…_

"Very well, I shall spare you." Karen said as if she was a judge.

"Oh thank you, thank you. I swear I never again will scam another client by toying with their fares when they're not looking!" the taxi driver swore with one hand on his chest.

"I knew that fare was overly excessive!" Karen exclaimed. Then again, she didn't feel like she was the right person to sermon the driver about righteousness, so she went right to the point. "In any case, I think I've decided where I want you to take me."

"Your word is my command, ma'am!"

_Oh, so I'm not 'lady' anymore? What a bootlicking clown!_

Karen caught a quick glance of another patrol passing close to them.

_I hadn't noticed how abundant policemen are around here until now. Probably because they weren't after me before…_

"Ma'am?" the taxi driver asked nervously and gulped.

"The beach." Karen said calmly. "Take me to the beach."

_I should be safe there for a while. I need to recollect my thoughts before I decide what to do next. In any case, I swear we'll meet each other as we promised, Charleston. Then you can finally know me and move on to something better. Someone better._

Karen took out her cellphone and typed.

_Don't you think you deserve better than me, Charleston?_

* * *

"JimBob! Hurry up with those burgers!" Mr. Slabs screamed from the kitchen's door.

"Yes Mr. Slabs!" JimBob said as he got three more orders ready. Manward came to pick them up. He looked more annoyed than usual.

"I hate young people! Thank god I skipped that phase." He hissed before taking the orders to three young guys that were happily talking with Pearl and her friends.

"Hey you, don't get so comfortable!" Exclaimed Mr. Slabs protectively at them as he went to their table.

Alone again in his beloved kitchen, JimBob took a second to catch his breath. He cleaned the sweat of his forehead with napkin and took a sip of his water bottle. "Phew! What a day. Pearl surely knows how to get the Trusty Slab busy."

Tired as he was, he felt happy. "In any case, I better save some energy for tonight. I must be ready for Jim Boy's return! Don't worry Charleston, I swear I'll catch that thief and get your headphones back!"

He said, wielding his spatula as if it was a sword.

His heroic stance was broken by the sudden noise of something climbing up the kitchen's window.

After a small scream, JimBob went to check on it. A second later, a cat jumped right toward his chest. JimBob barely had time to catch him with his arm.

"Gary!" he said, hugging his beloved pet. "Are you out in one your morning strolls? Did you come to visit Papa Jim at work?" JimBob looked down at his cat and frowned. "What's wrong, Gary? You look scared. Don't you worry, I know just what to give you to make you feel better."

He gently put Gary down on the floor, washed his hands and began to prepare him a snack with the leftovers.

"Here you go!" JimBob smiled as he watched how Gary instantly relaxed at the sight of the food. "I don't think a cat should be in a kitchen, but I can make an exception for the best pet in the world! By the way Gary, do you want to join Patrick and me in our heroic crusade tonight? We could use your sense of smell to help us find the thief. Can you believe someone stole Charleston's headphones? What kind of person could do something so cruel? Who could be capable of such a petty act?"

JimBob looked a the costumers with his eyes half closed. His attention fell on one particular man who couldn't stop looking at his newly acquired autograph of Pearl. "Bobby Bass! I should have known! Don't worry Gary, we'll get him tonight."

JimBob knelt and pet the cat on his head.

"Justice will prevail!" JimBob screamed, his spatula again in his hand.

Gary finished eating and looked at him.

The collar with his name reflected the kitchen's light.


	10. Build our little house alone

_**Thanks for reading and to Dreamer1920, Skillet-Writer and America's Got Fandom for the awesome reviews :)!**_

* * *

"Patrick Man!" Jimmy Boy saw how the defeated hero was thrown inside a dumpster after a lengthy battle. "No!"

"He's gone!" Bobby Bass exclaimed as he slammed the dumpster's door shut. He had a purple eye , his only memento from his battle against Patrick Man. "And you're next!"

Jimmy Boy shed a manly tear for his fallen friend. Poor Patrick Man wouldn't be able to get rid of the smell of trash for a week or two.

No hero deserved such fate.

But he would avenge him!

"For Patrick Man!" Jimmy Boy screamed as he ran toward Bobby Bass and managed to put himself behind his back. Just like he had learned from Sandy, Jimmy Boy put his arms around his nemesis' giant neck and prepared to deliver his ultimate attack. "And for Charleston's headphones! Trusty Chokeslam!"

"I won't fall for that again! Last time, I couldn't walk right for a day." Bobby Bass grabbed Jimmy Boy's arms and let himself fall on his back.

His whole weight crushed JimBob as if he was a little grape.

When Bobby Bass got up again, Jimmy Boy laid defeated under his gigantic shadow.

"I hope that hurt." Bobby Bass said cruelly as he kicked Jimmy Boy in the leg. "That's what you and your friend in underwear get for messing with me without a good reason. I'm not the villain here, I'm the victim. THE VICTIM!"

As Bobby Bass cried to the moon, Patchy and Potty kept on staring at them from a bench.

"This is way better than that movie playing at the theater." Patchy said as he ate a handful of popcorn. "And above all, it's free!"

"Shut up and share the popcorn, you selfish dork." Potty told him.

Patchy put the bag closer to the parrot's beak as he watched how Bobby Bass proceeded to give a long soliloquy about his tragic motives and life.

"Wow, JimBob and the others are better actors than I thought." Patchy said. "I could swear they were fighting for real."

"I just hope there is a sequel." Potty replied. "And they better not start charging for these little public presentations! That's how artists and creators kill their stuff."

* * *

Karen hissed as the seawater touched her hurting feet. After a small moment of a burning itch, came the cold relief.

"Much better." She opened her eyes and started into the sea. The beach was silent and emptier than she'd thought it would be. "Why did I even come here?"

The heavy bag in her hand was starting to make her arm go numb. She put it down on the sand, without really caring if the waves touched it.

"It's just water. Everything inside will dry sooner or later if it gets wet." Karen said. "I have worse problems than my clothes getting ruined by the sea, like not getting sent to prison, for example. That's a sentence I never thought I'd ever say. My life is getting weird; well, weirder than usual."

Karen shrugged and sat down on the wet sand.

_I better enjoy this little moment of peace. I've learned how little they can last. _

Just as she finished that thought and was starting to relax, she heard a loud and mean-spirited laughter coming from somewhere nearby.

_I jinxed it._

Karen stood up with the intention of moving farther from the noisy group, to a spot where she didn't have to listen to their annoying voices.

With her bag on hand, she looked over her shoulder to see who were the responsible of ruining her moment of tranquility.

It was just a bunch of teenagers kicking and throwing sand to some guy who tried desperately to escape them.

_Poor fool_. Karen thought with indifference. _But it's not my problem._

"Hey ma'am, I'll borrow this for a moment!"

"What?"

Before Karen knew it, one of the teens pushed her toward the water and snatched her bag from her hand.

After spitting a mouthful of seawater and rubbing salt off her eyes, Karen stood up and came to the rowdy group as if she was an awakened dragon whose treasure had just been stolen.

_Now_. Karen thought as she saw how the teens used her bag as a weapon to hit the man in the back._ It's my problem!_

"What's the matter? Are you going to cry, loser?" Laughed the same kid that had stolen her bag. "This is what you get for not giving me and my friends free samples of those beers you were promoting!"

"I can't do that! You have to be over eighteen; otherwise, I'd get in trouble! _Mon dieu_, what's wrong with kids these days?" the man clad in a diving suit exclaimed as he covered his helmet with his hands as the beating continued. "And people wonder why I prefer to be under the sea!"

"Shut up! Your accent gets on my nerves." Just when the teen was about to deliver a particularly strong hit directed right at Frenchy's bottom, the bag got taken away from him by its rightful owner. "Give it back, you're ruining the moment!"

"Aw, she must be his girlfriend." Another teen taunted.

The others looked at Karen and laughed.

She let them do so without saying a word.

Instead, she simply opened her bag and started to search inside with one hand.

"Karen!" Frenchy exclaimed, earning a small break from the teenagers. "I'm happy you're here! These kids are crazy, I tell you."

"She's really his girlfriend!" The group laughed harder than before. "What a cute couple they make. You see these two together in the street and you think, 'yeah that's about right'!"

Karen remained unexpressive.

It didn't take long for the young group to become bored by her nonchalant attitude. Slowly, they started to return their attention to Frenchy, who had just managed to get on his knees before he was forced back in the sand by multiple kicks coming at him from all sides.

_"__Maduit enfants!_" Frenchy exclaimed. "This is why I don't have children. Well, that and because of the lack of a significant other…but mostly because of this!"

"Enough!"

To his relief, Karen intervened again. In her hand, Frenchy could see a plastic gun similar to those that appeared in those movies about aliens invading Earth that he liked so much.

The kids stared back at Karen and laughed hysterically when she pointed the toy weapon at them.

"Did you get lost on your way to the nerd convention, ma'am?" one of them said. "Aren't you a bit old for that kind of stuff? You're girlfriend is hilarious, Scooba Fool!"

"This is a real laser gun, brats." Karen said with a serious, cold voice. "So why don't you just go running back to your mothers before things get ugly? Go on, otherwise, you'll wet your diapers."

The teen's faces went from amused to angered in the blink on an eye.

The strongest and tallest of them went and faced Karen as if he was a warrior about to battle with an evil witch.

"What did you just say?"

"I said…" Karen pointed the gun and a nearby rock and shot. The rock exploded into a million of particles and left a black mark where it used to be, "…just that. Did I make myself clear, or do I need to explain it again?"

The teens looked at each other, all of them equally pale, before running away screaming and crying.

"I hope you all learned a life-long lesson from all this!" Karen exclaimed at them as she put the gun back inside the bag. "Damn, I'd be a great mother."

She then went to Frenchy and tried to help him back on his feet.

"_Merci. Merci beacuop_, Karen." Frenchy said with a relieved, euphoric voice. "I tell you, those children are worse than any kind of aggressive sea life I've encountered in my whole life! Though I must say you went a bit overboard with the laser gun…"

"Well, someone needed to set those brats straight, and it obviously wasn't going to be you. Or their parents, for that matter." Karen helped him dust off some of the sand from his diving suit. "Anyway, it's not that I do not enjoy playing the hero, but I really must go now. Beware the wild teenagers, okay? They are rather abundant here in the beach during summer."

"Don't go so fast! Here, let me give you something. After all, you saved my life!" Frenchy said as he searched the pockets of his suit.

"I wouldn't go that far…" Karen muttered and scratched her head.

"Oh no, I can't find the discount coupons. I must have lost them when those kids were chasing me around the mall!" Frenchy kicked the sand in frustration while a confused Karen started at him. "I'm sorry, Karen. I'm afraid I can only offer you my thanks."

"That's not too valuable, is it?"

"Sorry?"

"Nothing." Karen sighed and put her bag on her shoulder. "Don't worry about it. Just don't expect me to—"

Karen hadn't even given one step forward when she saw four officers entering the beach. Together with them, there were the teenagers she had scared away.

And as a special guest, there also was the paranoid taxi driver with the Komodo dragon for a pet.

"I should get going too." Frenchy said as he stretched his back. "Those ruffians destroyed my beer post, can you believe it? But that's alright, I was planning on leaving here today on my submarine anyway. You see, there's this—"

"Did you just say submarine?" Karen grabbed his arm and got so close to his helmet that her forehead touched the crystal.

"_Oui_." Replied Frenchy, a little flustered. "Ah, my submarine. What a beauty it is. Have I ever told you of the day—"

"Take me with you." Karen pulled Frenchy by the arm, making him follow closely behind her.

"_Pardon?_"

Karen didn't stop walking. Her steps gradually became faster, and soon Frenchy had to run to keep up with her.

"Let's get to that damn submarine of yours and get out of here." Karen looked over her shoulder. Frenchy could see her eyes widened with fear. "Now!"

"But I'm not allowed to get people unrelated to my work aboard! And I certainly don't want to be fired again." Frenchy gulped. "Besides, I haven't cleaned it in weeks. It's not a place for a lady…"

"Save your chivalry and excuses for later, okay?" Karen urged him. "I saved your life, didn't I? So stop contradicting me and let's just get there before the police sees me!"

Frenchy felt how his heart fell to his stomach. "Did you just say the police? _Mon dieu_ Karen, what did you get yourself into?"

"I'll tell you once we are in your submarine." Karen urged him. "It's a long, stupid story. One that involves my husband, an old man, my work, and especially…" she glared at Frenchy with fiery eyes, "those cursed kelp beers of yours."

* * *

"Well, it's finally happened." Mr. Slabs said, putting his hands on his hips. He was staring at the other side of the street from inside the Trusty Slab.

Surprisingly, Manward was standing just by his side.

What was happening across the street was unusual enough to even earn his attention.

"I'd say it took him longer than I thought." Manward said with a light shade of his usual boredom in his voice.

"Hello, trusty crew!"

"JimBob, you're late." Mr. Slabs didn't take his eyes off the window as he scolded his happy employee.

"I know, I'm sorry Mr. Slabs. It's just that my night was a little more aggressive than I expected." JimBob walked toward his boss. His forehead and the bridge of his nose were covered in bandages. "I'm still a bit dizzy from the pills Sandy gave me, but don't worry. I'll be able to cook as many Slabby Patties as necessary…Mr. Slabs? Manward?"

JimBob waved his hands in front of them. When he got no reaction whatsoever, he shrugged and decided to look at the same direction as his friends.

JimBob felt his legs tremble at the sight before him.

"Charleston?" he said, his voice crashing together with the metallic echoes and soft crunches of wood that came from the other side of the street as Charleston dismantled the Crumb Basket. "Is he…"

"That's right, my boy." Mr. Slabs put a hand on his shoulder. "It seems good old Charleston has finally given up. It was bound to happen, though I really thought he would go out with more…dignity. I even dare to say I'm a bit disappointed."

"Do you think he'd be willing to sell some of that trash to me?" Manward said, with his hand caressing his chin.

_Oh, the sculptures I could make with that garbage! _He thought with a smile.

"Sell?" Mr. Slabs gave Manward a friendly punch in the shoulder. "Please, if he gave you the remains of that sham of a restaurant of his for free, he'd still be ripping you off!"

Mr. Slabs and Manward laughed together to the point of tears.

"Well, good riddance Charleston!" Mr. Slabs said as he wiped off a tear of his eye. "You will not be missed. Okay boys,let's get back to business. JimBob, can you repeat what you were saying? I wasn't really—"

Mr. Slabs looked around him, but his trusty fry cook was nowhere to be seen. "JimBob? Come on boy, this is not to time to play hide and seek!"

He searched for him under the tables, but it was as if JimBob had vanished. Confused, Mr. Slabs scratched his head, "Huh, where could that boy be? Did I hallucinate him? When will the side effects of those milkshakes stop!"

"Calm down, he was here just a moment ago." Manward said to his boss, a little angry at him for interrupting his newspaper reading with his lamentations and questions.

Mr. Slabs stared at Manward with his eyes half-closed. "Really? Well mister Manward, where is he?"

"Over there." Manward pointed outside the window without getting his eyes off the newspaper.

Mr. Slabs rolled his eyes, at first thinking he was playing a joke on him, but he soon discovered that Manward was telling the truth.

JimBob was across the street, talking with Charleston in what seemed to be a heated argument.

"That boy has developed a soft spot for Charleston in the last few days, hasn't he? "Mr. Slabs said to himself. "I know he would never betray me by his on will, but Charleston is cunning. He could play JimBob like a fiddle at any moment. In fact, now that I think about it, this whole thing about Charleston dismantling the Crumb Basket seems off. Could it be…another of his intricate attempts at stealing my secret sauce recipe?"

Mr. Slabs knew it was opening time, but he decided to postpone it for a few minutes. He was too busy trying to put together the pieces of Charleston's potential plan.

"Maybe he's just pretending." He sat on one of the tables and lighted a cigarette. "If I think he's given up, I'd let my guard down, and he'd take the chance to get the recipe. Though perhaps it's more complex than that. Maybe this whole thing about his wife coming to town is part of his plan too. JimBob, I love you boy, but you're a sentimental fool. It would be so easy for Charleston to manipulate you by taking advantage of your tender heart. After all, you'd never doubt to help a poor man whose love life is falling apart…"

Mr. Slabs breathed out a lungful of smoke.

"And what better day to take advantage of all that than the Beach Palooza next week?" Mr. Slabs put out the cigarette by rubbing it on the table. "Damn you Charleston, you knew I 'd be distracted that day with Pearl's presentation, didn't you? Oh, but don't you worry. Old Slabs is not as stupid as you may think. I'm not going to disappoint me daughter. I'll be there with her on her special day, but neither am I going to leave the Trusty Slab unprotected."

Mr. Slabs got up and looked at the window again. He saw how an angry JimBob was coming back to the restaurant.

JimBob passed by Larry, and ignored him as the buff man said hi to him while he was out in one of his daily morning marathons.

Mr. Slabs watched Larry disappear as he continued to run down the street.

An idea came to his mind.

He smiled.

_I'll be prepared for whatever you have planned, Charleston._ Mr. Slabs opened the door for JimBob, who went directly to the kitchen without saying a word to him or Manward. _You can be sure of that._

* * *

Charleston's day was going moderately well, until…

"Charleston!"

"Great."

He counted to three before his sight became contaminated with the appearance of JimBob. In spite of how overbearing the presence of the fry cook could be, Charleston still managed to ignore him as he continued to tear apart the Crumb Basket plank by plank.

"What are you doing?" JimBob asked him.

"What does it look like, genius?" Charleston replied.

"You can't give up now!"

A plank slipped from Charleston's fingers. He finally looked at JimBob, and his sympathetic face only caused Charleston to grow more annoyed. "Giving up?"

"I know the loss of your headphones hit you hard." JimBob said. "But give me some time, alright? Patrick and I are working on it! We thought Bobby Bass had taken them, but let's just say that last night we discovered the hard way that our suspicions were misplaced…But don't worry, I swear we'll find them ."

JimBob laughed.

Charleston ignored him again, hoping JimBob for once in his life would get the message and go away.

Alas, he had been a fool to even think that could happen.

"You don't have to torn apart the Crumb Basket! It's a bit drastic, don't you think?" JimBob said. He picked up a few of the planks and carried them in his arms, "What will Karen say when she arrives and sees you've destroyed your restaurant? She'll be pretty disappointed!"

"Shut up!" Charleston turned around to face JimBob. He took the planks away from him and threw them back at the floor. "You don't understand what I'm doing here, and I don't want you to. Just like I don't want or need your help. This is my problem, you hear me? Mine alone. Stay out of it, JimBob. I won't ask you again."

JimBob stayed still with his mouth open like a fool.

"Get out of here already." Charleston said to him as he continued with his work. "You're in my way."

JimBob didn't listen to him.

Charleston didn't care. If he wanted to spend the whole day watching him work, then he was free to do so.

As long as he didn't intervene, everything would be fine.

"So you've really given up." JimBob muttered. It was the first time Charleston heard something resembling anger in his voice. It was more terrifying than he dared to admit. "I…I wanted to help you so everything would be fine between you and Karen! But if you're not even going to try anymore, then neither will I! Perhaps what Mr. Slabs said turned out to be true for you and Karen, but I won't let it be true for me and Sandy!"

JimBob and Charleston's eyes met for a second before JimBob went back to the Trusty Slab with heavy, long steps.

Charleston stood still for a moment, trying to understand what had just happened.

"He tried to help me? He wanted things between me and Karen to be okay?" Charleston repeated. "Who does he think he is? I don't need his or anyone's help to prove myself to Karen. And I don't care about what Slabs said! I'll make sure everything turns out fine for Karen and for me, and I'll do it by myself!"

Charleston kept on dismantling the Crumb Basket.

"First, I'll rebuild the Crumb Basket into a place that's worthy of you, Karen." Charleston exclaimed. "And I'll do it all on my own! Then you'll see your husband is not a loser, Karen! And then…"

Charleston looked at the Trusty Slab, but he quickly returned his attention to his work.

He had to focus if he wanted to finish dismantling and rebuilding the Crumb Basket again before the day of the Beach Palooza.

"But that's a matter for another time. For now, the Crumb Basket and our meeting will be my only priorities." He stopped for a moment and touched his ears.

He wondered if that habit would ever die.

_Even if it doesn't_, Charleston thought as he remembered the last message he had received from Karen, where she expressed how she couldn't wait to see him, _I wouldn't mind at all._


	11. Like a ball of yarn

**Hello guys! Thanks for reading and thanks to Dreamer1920, Skillet-Writer and America's Got Fandom for the review. I'm really happy you're enjoying the story :)**

* * *

"Ah, the sea. What a peaceful place, so full of life, so full of interesting creatures to meet and study. When I'm underneath it, it's as if everything made sense. Sometimes, I feel more at home here than I do in land." Frenchy said dreamily. He stopped writing his notes and looked at his new, non-official assistant. "Don't you feel that way too, Karen?"

"No officers, they are lying! I swear I didn't—"Karen exclaimed before her face slipped from her hand and crashed against the desk. She woke up and looked around in horror, but she calmed down when she saw the weird man clad in a diving suit. "Thank goodness, it was only a dream. Anyway, did you say something?"

Frenchy folded his arms and moved his chair so he would turn his back on Karen. "I was saying something beautiful, something that came from the deepest part of my heart, and you fell asleep. That hurts, Karen. It really does."

"Seriously? You were talking non-stopping for two hours about the sea and how much you love it…again! Of course you lulled me to sleep." Karen looked at her watch and rubbed her forehead. "You talk too much. I bet you're as in love with the sound of your own voice as you're with the sea."

"That's true_, mon ami_." Frenchy laughed, getting up and going toward the submarine's periscope. "Ah, a school of fish is passing near us. Do you want to see for yourself, Karen?"

"Nope." Karen replied, wishing she was still asleep.

The submarine was a nice, tranquil place, but it was also very boring for anyone who wasn't as obsessed with sea life as Frenchy. He had proven to be an amiable traveling companion, but his conversations never digressed from his work or the creatures he studied.

And when he started talking, it was impossible to make him shut up. After two days in the submarine, Karen had mastered the role of the quiet listener.

It was a bore, but it could be worse. At least Frenchy's blabbering mouth had spared her from telling him her own story.

Sure, Frenchy was a good guy, but they were little more than acquaintances. Karen doubted he'd really care about what she had to say anyway. Most likely, he would fall asleep halfway through the same way she did every time Frenchy's monologues dragged for too long.

Besides, she didn't feel like sharing her motives. Her problems were hers alone, and they should stay that way.

"Oh, a shark in the distance! It's resting on a reef. That's unusual." Frenchy exclaimed, moving the periscope around. He looked like a child watching a movie for the first time. "Ah, the ruthless battle of the survival of the fittest. Nature can be cruel, but it's also so beautiful…wait, the shark's still not moving at all."

"Maybe he's just tired and wants to take a nap." Karen said, resting her head on her arms. "I know that feeling."

"There's something wrong."

Karen opened her eyes and looked at Frenchy. His voice had lost all its enthusiastic tone and was replaced by a mix of concern and sadness.

Frenchy left the periscope and went to the submarine's controls. The sounds of his steps were fast and heavy.

"What happened?" Karen asked him, going to his side.

For the first time, Frenchy ignored her. His whole attention was devoted in getting the submarine close to the shark as quickly possible.

_Has he gone mad? That beast can attack us! _

She immediately dispelled the thought. It had been only a passing idea created by fear. No shark could harm them as long as they stayed inside the submarine.

_Then again, Frenchy is a bit crazy. It wouldn't surprise me if he decided to take a swim with the shark while he asked me to record them. Yesterday he swam with a bunch of jellyfishes and puffer fishes, after all. _Karen gulped. They were now just a few meters away from the animal_. Oh no, he's really going to do it. I won't let you, you French idiot! If you die, who's gonna take me to Charleston's hometown? And how am I going to survive in this submarine alone? I barely know how to drive a car, even less how to operate a damn submarine!_

"Frenchy, no." Karen told him, holding him still in the chair with her hands on his shoulders. "I know you like sea animals, but swimming with a shark is too much, don't you think? Why don't you just take a picture of it? Here, I'll do it for you."

Karen took out her cellphone and prepared the camera. "Hey toothy, over here!"

"Karen, wait." Frenchy tried to put himself between her and sight of the animal, but he was too late. Karen had already taken the picture.

She shuddered and stepped back. A scream became stuck in her throat.

The image of the maimed animal was branded in her mind. She hadn't realized how injured the creature was until the photo appeared on the cellphone's screen, just a few centimeters away from her eyes.

The cellphone escaped her fingers. She didn't dare to look at it, even less to pick it up. It was as if the image of shark had infected it with a mortal virus.

"Who would…?" Automatically, her eyes tried to look at the shark again, as if they were trying to convince her that what she had seen was real. Luckily, this time Frenchy managed to cover the view before it was too late.

"Don't look." Frenchy said to her. He held her and moved her away from the glass. "I'm sorry. I should have warned you."

"Who would do that?" Karen finished speaking after Frenchy guided her back to the chair. He helped her sit down and moved the chair in the opposite direction so she wouldn't have to see that scene anymore. "That poor animal."

Frenchy didn't answer. He remained pensive for a moment before going back to the controls. He made the submarine go up to the surface and connected some cables to his suit. "I'll go check what happened to it. I won't be long."

"Okay." Karen said, pretending to be calm.

Before he left, Frenchy put her cellphone on the desk, next to Karen's hand. She recoiled from it as if it was a snake. "It's alright. I've deleted the photo."

Karen nodded, and waited until he was gone before hiding her eyes behind her hands. She didn't cry.

"You said the sea was a beautiful place, Frenchy." Karen said. After taking a deep breath, she dared to look at her cellphone again. The screen was broken, but it still worked. She stared at her screensaver for a while, as if trying to cleanse her memory from what she had seen. "But right now, it only feels cruel."

* * *

Charleston slammed his thumb with the hammer.

"Dammit! Stupid piece of junk!"

He would think that after dozens of times, he would become accustomed to that pain.

How wrong he had been.

In a fit of rage, he threw the hammer to the ground . "A genius like me shouldn't be doing this kind of menial work! This is a job for an imbecile!"

He kept throwing a tantrum, catching the attention of the people passing by.

"Problems in paradise, Charleston?" Patchy taunted him with good humor. "By the way, what are you building? It looks like one those pieces of art Manward makes in secret."

"Get out of here before I throw this in your ugly face!" Charleston exclaimed as he picked up the hammer.

Patchy got out of there, screaming and riding his tricycle so fast that the wheels left marks on the pavement.

"That idiot can't appreciate the wonder that is my work. I mean, just look at it!" Charleston said with pride as he looked at the new, improved Crumb Basket. "Ew, what the hell is that thing? Who would build such a horrible—oh right, it was me."

A second later, the fregile structure collapsed under its own weight. Charleston had lost count of how many times that had happened in the last couple of days.

"Curses!" He let himself fall to the ground on his back. "This cannot continue! How am I supposed to finish rebuilding the Crumb Basket before Karen arrives if it keeps collapsing every single time? Perhaps I didn't think this through…Stupid imagination, making me believe it would be a lot easier! You lied to me!" He slapped himself in the head. "Ow!"

To make things worse, the sun had been shinning brighter than usual in the last days, as if it had heard Charleston's plan and had decided to play a prank on him.

"Well, at least I'll have a great tan. Women love tanned men." Charleston said. Defeated and tired, he took out his cellphone and checked his messages. He had received one from his cousin Clem, but none from Karen. "It's been two days now. I know she's probably really busy, but I'm getting worried. If only I had my headphones…"

When he thought better about it, he realized it wouldn't have made a difference. They had promised no to call each other until the day of the festival.

"That was a weird promise to make." Charleston was starting to doze off. "Our whole marriage is weird, Karen. But…"

Charleston sighed and got up. He grabbed the nails and the hammer and started working from the beginning again.

"…I said I'd do it, and I will." He screamed after slamming himself with the hammer again. "Though it will likely cost me all my fingers. I hope you don't mind, Karen."

From the other side of the street, inside the Trusty Slab, Sandy watched Charleston as she ate a Slabby Patty.

"And there he goes again. He's determined, I'll give him that."

"He's a stupid fool."

Sandy looked at JimBob. He was sitting in front of her, with his back turned to the window.

"What's with you, JimBob? It's not like you to say that."

"I don't know what you're talking about, I'm fine."

"You've been acting weird the last couple of days. You look angry all the time. At first I thought you were just tired from work, but it's more than that, isn't it?"

JimBob looked at Sandy. His eyes softened.

"You noticed?"

"Please, everyone noticed. You went from insufferable idiot to bitter grump in the blink of an eye. If you ask me, that's an improvement."

"Manward, stay out of this." Sandy told him. She knew it was a slow day at work when even Manward resorted to eavesdropping to amuse himself.

"Whatever. I was starting to get bored anyway." Manward left his spot behind the cash register and went to sit on a distant table. He made himself comfortable, put on his earphones and opened the newspaper. "You're now free to continue with your idle conversation, you sad creatures."

Sandy rolled her eyes while JimBob thanked him for his consideration.

"Now that's dealt with," Sandy continued, "tell me what happened, JimBob."

JimBob hesitated. He made two pathetic attempts of changing the conversation that would have worked on Patrick, but did nothing on Sandy.

After much stuttering and blabbering, JimBob managed to tell Sandy the reason behind his bad mood.

"No Sandy, it's not because my underwear is too tight." JimBob confessed heavily.

"I never said that it was…"

"It's just that, well, a few days ago, Mr. Slabs said something that left me thinking."

"Listen JimBob, he's not going to fire you. He only says he will to get you motivated. It's a just a bit of tough love."

"No, it's something different. He said that…" JimBob put his hands on the table and joined them. "He said that all relationships are doomed to fail."

Sandy blinked. That was a piece of information she hadn't expected to hear.

"I see." She said. "And he just said that to you out of nowhere?"

"No. He said it after Charleston told us that he was worried Karen wouldn't like him when she saw him, or that he wouldn't like her."

Sandy listened with attention until JimBob was done explaining. "You didn't tell me that had happened."

"I know. It's just that it upset me so much." JimBob said apologetically. "Mr. Slabs also said that it wasn't something that happened to everyone, but still…"

"And you're worried that's true for us?"

JimBob nodded. "Yes. I think that's why I wanted everything between Charleston and Karen to turn out fine. If things worked out for them, then I could be sure it would be the same for us. But when I saw he had discarded his headphones and had dismantled the Crumb Basket, I thought…well, how long would it be before the same thing happened to us?"

Now that he said it out loud, JimBob realized how selfish he sounded.

Sandy held his hands in hers. "We're doing fine right now, aren't we?"

"Yes." JimBob answered softly.

"Then stop worrying about what might happen." Sand smiled at him. "Let's just do out best to try continue the way we are now, okay?"

JimBob swallowed. He wondered why he had been so stupid and tried to keep all those thoughts to himself, or why he had considered them to be true.

"I'd like that." JimBob said, feeling freed of his bad humor for the first time in two days. "Sandy."

"Yes?"

"I just want you to know that whatever happens next, right now I'm glad I'm here with you."

Sandy laughed under her breath. "You silly man. Stop that or you'll make me cry."

"I'M ALREADY CRYING!"

"What the—Patrick, what are you doing here?" Sandy jumped in surprise as Patrick blew his nose with his own shirt. He had been sitting on a chair near the bar for who knew how long.

"I don't know, but I stayed for the drama." Patrick said, bawling like a baby. "But don't mind me, continue."

"You nosey little…" Sandy stood up and began to chase him down the restaurant. Patrick kept crying as he ran away in circles. "You better make sure I don't catch you! I'm not as gentle as Bobby Bass!"

"No please, I don't want to get thrown into the dumpster again! I had to shower fifty times to make the smell go away! And it didn't work!"

JimBob nervously looked at the door of Mr. Slabs' office, but calmed down after remembering he wasn't in the restaurant that day. "Thank heavens he's too busy arranging everything for Pearl's presentation for the Beach palooza. Otherwise, he'd be pretty angry at the chaos we're making."

Wit his mind now at ease, JimBob relaxed and laughed, happy to be in the company of Sandy and his friends.

"Sandy's right. I shouldn't worry so much about what might happen. Right now, I have this, and that's good enough for me." Then, almost involuntarily, he looked over his shoulder, and saw Charleston hard at work in whatever he was planning to do with he ruins of the Crumb Basket.

_Maybe you're happy too, in your own way. I'm sorry I meddled so much in your affairs just because of my selfish reasons, Charleston. But if you really need help, you can ask us, and we'll help you. You know that, right?_

_If I asked those morons to help me, they'd accept without hesitating. I wouldn't need to manipulate them at all._ Charleston though as he looked at them from the other side of the street. _And that's exactly why I won't ask them._

He felt envious of how they continued to act like they had no care in the world while he was stuck in a situation without an apparent solution.

"It's okay, I'll just have to keep trying." Charleston sighed. "I mean, I have a clear image in my head of how I want the Crumb Basket to look. I even spent one entire night drawing the blueprints! I just have to concentrate and make sure I don't mess up—Ow!"

He slammed his thumb again. Just like before, he repeated his routine of throwing the hammer to the floor before throwing an angry tantrum.

"Forget this! If I can't manipulate JimBob and his stupid friends, I'll have to find another fool to trick." Charleston looked at the street, inspecting the people that passed by. "Bobby Bass? No, he's too brutish. There's Patchy again, but I think he's scared of me now. Larry…yes of course! Kind, strong, and soft-hearted, he's the perfect idiot for my plan!"

Charleston ran to the sidewalk and put himself in the middle of Larry's way. "Larry! How's everything going for you? Getting any more people to train lately?"

Larry glared at Charleston and tried to pass him by, but the skinny man wouldn't let him go so easily.

"Don't be rude now. You can at least say hi, you know? After all, we're friends." Charleston said, smiling affably at Larry. "Listen, I need—"

"No, you listen." Larry came closer to Charleston. His shadow covered him completely. For a moment, Charleston felt as if he was standing before a bear. "Don't you think I've forgotten how you ratted on me with the police. I almost had my trailer torn apart because they wouldn't stop looking for more protein milkshakes. All the people in the beach saw that mess. They think I'm still a delinquent! That did nothing to get them interested in my training sessions!"

"What? I didn't rat on…Oh." Charleston had almost forgotten that incident. "Come on now, it was an accident. I was really stressed out at that moment and—"

"I don't care." Larry grabbed Charleston by the head and lifted him up without any effort. Charleston felt shivers down his spine. He was sure Larry would slam his head against the floor until he rendered him unconscious. Instead, Larry gently put him out of his way and let him go. "Just don't talk to me in a very long while, okay? I think that's what would be best for you."

Larry left without saying another word.

Charleston stood still for a while before falling to his knees. "I thought I'd die!" he looked at the now distant Larry and screamed at him. "That's right, run away! I won't go easy on you next time, you thug!"

With his honor slightly restored, Charleston went back to work on his restaurant by himself. "Well, at least it can't get any worse."

He heard the alarm of a new message entering his phone. "Karen!"

His enthusiasm transformed into annoyance when he discovered to whom the message really belonged to. "Dammit Clem, how many times have I told you? I don't want to go to our family's annual reunion! I haven't in the last ten years! And no, it also can't be in my restaurant! I don't even have a restaurant at the moment, so stop pestering me and—"

An idea came to his mind.

_Of course, why didn't I think of it sooner? Our family fills me with nothing but shame Clem, but I'm willing to make this sacrifice. And who knows? Maybe you're not so useless after all._

He pressed his cellphone and put it closer to his ear. It only took two seconds for Clem to answer.

"Clem? Yeah, of course it's me, you fool. Yeah fascinating, now listen, tell the others they can come here tomorrow for the annual family reunion, I'd be more than happy to receive you all in my restaurant. What? No, I'm not kidding, and no, I'm not drunk either! Are you crying? Get a grip! And for heaven's sake, make sure you and the rest look halfway decent before coming here, okay? At least take a bath! No, I don't want to talk to our aunt. Wait, what did I just tell you? Clem, don't you dare! I swear, if you put her on the phone, I will never forgive…Oh, hi aunt."

That was only the first of many, awkward and boring conversation Charleston had to endure.

_This is all for you, Karen._ Charleston thought as he talked with another of his whatever-the-hell-his-name-was cousins._ I hope you appreciate it._

* * *

Karen never would have thought the responsibility of starting a conversation would fall upon her. She had never been the greatest talker, and with the exception of Charleston, she found it difficult to keep talking with someone for more than a few minutes.

But she had no other choice.

Frenchy hadn't said a word since he'd returned to the submarine. Karen hadn't noticed how quiet the place really was without his endless chattering.

_I wonder if that's why he talks so much. This amount of silence can be overwhelming._

"Don't you think it's funny you were planning to go to the same Beach Palooza as me? What were the odds! You said you lived in that place for a while, right? How's it there? I'm really curious myself." Karen did her best to make her voice sound upbeat.

"_Oui_." It was the only thing Frenchy said before going back to writing his notes.

_I'm doing this wrong…what did that stupid book say about making casual conversation again? Those stupid suggestions are not useful at all! They only make me sound like more of a fool, if that's even possible._

Karen kept crocheting. She knew that hobby made her look like a grandma, but it had always calmed down her heart.

And after what had happened earlier, it still needed much calming.

_I don't even know what I'm making, or why I chose a green ball of yarn to work with. I'll just keep going and see what I can transform this into. Maybe this will end up being the gift I'll give to you when we finally meet, Charleston._

She waited to see if Frenchy had something to say, but he remained taciturn.

"I'm sorry about the shark." Tired of the silence and of beating around the bush, Karen simply spoke her mind. "But it's like you said. Nature can be cruel, and these things just happen. You can't do anything about it."

Frenchy stopped writing and looked at her. Karen wondered how angry he really looked underneath his helmet.

_Great, now he hates me. Nice going there, Karen. Smooth and tactful as usual._

"Yes, I know what I said." Frenchy explained with a mellow voice that took Karen off guard. "But that wasn't nature, Karen. That was just the work of a selfish man without respect for the world he lives in."

"I'm guessing you hate everyone that eats fish, then."

"No. I like to think there's a cycle, and that we humans can be a part of it as long as we show respect to it and the creatures that conform it, even if it may seem cruel at times. But when someone disrespects it merely because he thinks he is above all those creatures just because he considers them stupid and lowly…"

"That sounds awfully personal, Frenchy."

"You're right, it is." Frenchy stood up and put a hand on his helmet. "If I removed this right now, I could show you the person I'm talking about. After all, we both have the same face."

Karen stopped crocheting. She had always wished for a sibling, but Frenchy was causing her to have second thoughts about the matter.

"I've always felt my appearance was a bit of a curse, you know?" Frenchy kept talking, sitting again in his chair. "No matter what I do, I'll always resemble my twin brother. When I started this job many years ago and began wearing this suit, it was liberating. I finally could differentiate myself from him, but he soon began to wear an identical suit himself. He copied everything single aspect of mine only to spite me. No matter how many changes I make to my suit or my face, he always copies them. If I gained a scar, he'd be more than willing to inflict one to himself only to make sure we continued to look the same. And now, the sea creatures are starting to fear me, all because of the horrible things he does to them. Sure, a few of them know that he and I are not the same person, but I can no longer interact with them as much I used to. They're scared of me because many they believe I'm him, and I hate the fact that's the last thing those poor creatures think as he hurts them and…"

Frenchy swallowed dryly. "I'm sorry, this got too personal. Besides, I can see you're busy with whatever you're crocheting—"

"So is your brother the one that hurt the shark?" Karen asked.

Frenchy nodded slowly. "I can't be sure. He's always been cruel, but he's never gone this far. But there's something in the way that poor animal was treated that screams his name. All of its teeth were extracted, and its fins…no, you don't need to hear this, and I don't really want to talk about it. Sorry Karen, but can we just talk about something else?"

"We can also no talk at all." Karen shrugged. More than a rude implication, it was a considerate suggestion. She had caused Frenchy much trouble by talking to him in the first place when he had clearly wanted to be left alone.

"Actually," French picked up the green ball of yarn on the floor. He began to unknot the tangled threads, "I'd like to keep talking. Talking calms my heart, and you're a very good listener."

"Only because you never shut up." Karen muttered.

"What?"

"Nothing." She gave Frenchy a quick smile before she continued crocheting. "It doesn't bother you if I do this while you talk, does it? I'll still listen to you even if I don't look at you."

"Not at all."

"Good. Well, go ahead. I'm all ears."

"There's a lot of things I'd like to talk about with you. I still haven't told you of my adventures in the distant Rock Bottom."

"Sound riveting." Karen said with pretended excitement. She tried to make it sound as genuine as possible, even if deep inside she knew she would have to brace herself for a three-hour long story.

"But there's something else I really want to talk about right now." Frenchy said casually as he played with the ball of yarn. "Karen, you're Charleston's long-distance wife, aren't you?"

Karen's needles escaped her hands. She looked at Frenchy with her mouth agape.

"I had my suspicions, but your silence just confirmed it." Frenchy chuckled good-naturedly. "That, and the screensaver on your phone. I gave that photo to Charleston months ago. It's a really cute picture of Plankton and his computer wife, don't you think?"


	12. Clem and Frenchy, marital counselors

_**Thanks for reading and to America's Got Fandom, Skillet-writer and Dreamer1920 for the reviews!**_

* * *

His family were, to put it in kind terms, simple people, and they needed a simple plan to follow. With them, it was a good idea to use drawings instead of long speeches. Otherwise, they might fry the few neurons they had in their tiny brains.

"…and finally, we'll tear down the Trusty Slab!" Charleston laughed as he drew a sketch of his scheme in his notebook. He had spent the last three hours inside his tent giving his plan its final touches.

The whole plan was crude and too direct for his taste, but it would work perfectly with his family.

"Where the hell are they anyway?" he checked the hour on his cellphone. As faulty as they were, his family had always been punctual to a fault.

The fact they were five minutes late made Charleston uneasy. He opened the entrance of the tent and peeked outside.

"I bet they got lost along the way. I should have known something like this would happen." He stepped outside. A hot morning welcomed him. To his side, the ruins of the Crumb Basket were starting to get invaded by birds. "You again? How many times must I tell you! My restaurant is not your refuge, you winged rats!"

He threw pebbles at them to scare them off. "Get out of here, you pests! I'm Charleston, your ruin, your master, your—oh uh."

Charleston barely had time to cover his face with his arms before the birds surrounded him and attacked him without a truce.

"Uhm, should we intervene?" Manward asked Mr. Slabs as they both looked at Charleston from the window of the Trusty Slab.

Mr. Slabs thought about it for a second, and then waved his hand together with Manward, "Nah."

They shrugged the matter off and left Charleston to his fate. His feathery, painful fate.

"Ouch, watch it!" Charleston slapped away a seagull that had pecked him dangerously close to his only eye. "You want to leave me blind or something? Besides, you're not a damn crow!"

_I think this is it for me_. Charleston thought as he dramatically let himself fall to the floor. _Oh Karen, what will you think when you discover your beloved husband met his demise at the hands of a bunch of angry birds? Knowing you, you may laugh a little, or a lot. I wouldn't blame you. This is a very a stupid way to go. At least it can't get any worse._

"No! Get away from my dear cousin!" Charleston heard the familiar battle cry of Clem as he rushed to him and scared the birds away by flinging around a big bag. Scared by the chaotic attacks of the newcomer, the birds finally fled. "Shelton, are you okay?! Don't worry, I know what will make you feel better, a hug from your favorite cousin!"

"This is hell." Charleston muttered before Clem picked him up and forced him into a tight embrace that soon transformed into a jumping dance. "Okay, okay, I get it! Now stop this idiocy before someone sees us."

Charleston pushed Clem away and dusted off his clothes.

"I've missed you a lot!" Clem said with his stupid, wide smile that had always exasperated Charleston. "You haven't changed at all. Well, you do look a bit more muscular though, and is that a tan I see?"

Clem inspected Charleston and grinned at him. "You're trying to impress a lady, aren't you? You old dog!" Before Charleston could do anything, Clem grabbed with one arm and ruffled his hair playfully. "You don't mess around, do you? But wait, what about your wife…oh."

Clem let him go and put his hands on Charleston's shoulders. Though he was dizzy because of Clem's harsh treatment and the attack of the birds, Charleston could see how his cousin's eyes were filled with tears.

"What is wrong with you? Wipe that expression off your face, you look uglier than usual! If that's even possible…" Charleston exclaimed.

Untouched by his insults, Clem started to cry. "I'm sorry that Karen divorced you, Shelton! Oh my dear cousin, I didn't know! And I didn't even get to meet her in person once! Then again, neither did you. This is just soul crushingly sad."

Clem messily blew his nose with a dirty handkerchief he took out of his pocket.

"Enough of that already!" Charleston gave Clem a soft slap with the back of his hand. "Karen and I are still married, you idiot. Seriously Clem, your imagination has always been out of control…"

"What a relief." Clem sighed, putting both hands on his heart. "I'm sorry, it's just that I hate sad stories. They're the reason I never learned to read."

"Yeah, sure." Charleston arched an eyebrow and gave Clem a quick pat on the head. "Now, if you're finished with your overlong greeting, step aside. I have a lot of more of morons…I mean, beloved family members I must welcome! Oh my dear cousins, aunts and uncles! How happy I am that you're finally here!"

Charleston's speech came to a premature end when he saw that no one else other than Clem and a confused Sandy were listening to him.

"I think I don't be belong here." Sandy said, laughing awkwardly. "I'll be going now."

With that, she went quickly toward the Trusty Slab.

"Wait, what?" Charleston looked around. There was no sight of the multitude of people he had expected. "What's going on here? Where the hell is everybody else?!"

"They're not coming." Clem answered casually, imitating Charleston and starting to look around. "I was going to tell you that, but I got carried away. Anyway, they send you their best, and a bottle of our family's root beer." Clem took out said object from his bag and offered it to Charleston. "Do you want us to drink it now or should we first get inside your restaurant? By the way…where's your restaurant? I only see your tent and that bunch of ugly ruins."

"Where's my restaurant?!" Charleston shouted at Clem, who hugged the root beer in fear. "Where's the rest of our family, Clem? That's the only question you should be worrying about right now! Answer me this moment or I swear I'll—"

"Okay, I'll talk! Just don't scream at me, you know I can't handle it." Clem whimpered. "You see cousin, it's a sad, long story. It all began last night when…"

Charleston's fury diminished and was replaced by incredulity and disappointment as Clem kept going with his tale about how the entire Charleston family had gotten food poisoned after eating in an _one-dollar-all-you-can-eat-buffet_ the night before, to celebrate Charleston finally contacting them after so many years.

"I would have gotten sick too, but I accidentally knocked myself out with the restaurant's door." Clem said, pointing at a bump on his forehead previously concealed by his dirty hat. "Doors are strange devices, I tell you…"

Charleston felt a hole in his stomach. "That means…that only you made it here?"

"Yeah! And I'll be staying with you for a few days, until after that Beach Palooza. You don't mind having your cousin as your guest, do you?" Clem put his bag down and surrounded Charleston's shoulders with an arm. "Just think of all the fun we can have! It will be like the old days! Do you remember the old days, Shelton?"

"Unfortunately, I do." Charleston dropped to his knees and started to cry.

"Oh, you're crying of happiness!" Clem knelt and hugged him.

Meanwhile, Charleston tears of frustration and anger continued to flow.

_Now, not only I don't have my personal army to help me rebuild the Crumb Basket, steal the secret recipe and destroyed the Trusty Slab once and for all, but I'm stuck with this idiot! This idea gained me nothing other than this deadweight I call my cousin! Curse my life!_

"Hey cousin, I think I understand now." Clem said. "That tent is your restaurant, isn't it? A strange concept, but I like it! Your rent must be very cheap."

"At the very, very least," Charleston said with abysmal resignation. "This can't seriously get any worse."

"Look! A cloud is coming directly toward us." Clem announced, covering his eyes with a hand and staring at the sky. "Wait, that's not a cloud. It looks more like a flock of angry seagulls."

"Fascinating." Charleston replied calmly. He and Clem looked at each other before they both ran away screaming as the birds chased after them.

_Meanwhile, in the park…_

"I tell you Potty, I have no inspiration today." Patchy scrapped another half-finished drawing and threw it into the garbage.

"And clearly you have no talent either." Potty mocked him from his shoulder. "I've seen kindergartners draw with more skill than you."

"Everyone's a critic!" Patchy scoffed, looking around the park for something that could inspire him. "And I´ll let you know that I have one big, faithful fan that thinks all my works are masterpieces!"

"Who? Your mom?"

"Precisely."

"Oh boy…"

A moment later, Charleston and Clem passed running by as fast they could, barely escaping their winged chasers.

Patchy's eyes gleamed. He began to draw before the image in his head faded

"Perfect." He said as he looked and kissed his piece of art, though Potty wasn't sure that's what he would call it. "I shall name this piece…_Two morons, some seagulls and a park_. I think I'll sell this one! It's worth millions!"

"And can your mother really afford it?" Potty asked with sarcasm.

To his surprise, Patchy answered him seriously. "Of course she can. Retired people always have money. Damn it Potty, that's common knowledge!"

* * *

Kare hadn't spoken to Frenchy for a long while now.

After Frenchy's revelation of his knowledge of her identity as Charleston's wife, she had stared at him for a whole minute in silence.

Her eyes had gone from surprised to resentful; then, she had simply put the half-done crocheted mask on one side of the couch and walked away. She'd had kept her back turned on Frenchy ever since.

She had remained in that same position, killing time with her cellphone, coldly ignoring Frenchy as if he had ceased to exist.

Frenchy had tried to say something to her many times, but the words always died in his mouth.

He was sure he had made a terrible mistake.

Nothing had turned out the way he had expected to.

He had expected Karen to laugh after her initial shock. He would have laughed together with her, and then the two of them could engage into a relaxed, casual conversation about her and Charleston.

Just a trivial, friendly talk, like the sort two friends have over coffee.

He had expected nothing else, and maybe it was because of that he had been a fool.

After his many failed attempts of talking to Karen, Frenchy had picked up the green ball of yarn and carefully placed it next to Karen's work. He made sure everything was in order before returning to his notes and writings.

The idea of the remainder of their journey being filled by nothing more than that gelid silence filled his heart with regret.

If only he had kept his mouth shut…

"I won't let it happen! _Je ne sui pas un lache!_" Frenchy slammed his hands on his desk and stood up. He bowed his head until it almost touched his knees. "I'm sorry, Karen. I didn't mean to insult you or make you feel bad! I'm just an old fool with rusty social skills and a bad timing for conversations, but that still doesn't excuse my horrible behavior! You don't have to forgive me, but you need to know that I'm sorry!"

He couldn't see if Karen was watching him, but he didn't care. He said what he had to, and that was enough.

Or so he thought, until he lifted his head again and discovered Karen was in the same position as before. Just like he had thought, she hadn't even looked at him.

Feeling sad and embarrassed after making a fool out of himself, Frenchy let out a heavy sigh and went back to the desk.

It had been all for nothing, but he had tried.

"Damn, you're so dramatic, eccentric and pathetic."

Frenchy froze just when he was about to pull his chair. He turned around and discovered that Karen was looking at him. She leaned her shoulder against the wall with her arms folded.

"My brother would agree with you on that." Frenchy said, wondering if it was the right time to make a joke.

"You're not unlike Charleston in that sense, you know."

"Ah."

Frenchy regretted his poor eloquence, but he was relieved when he saw Karen coming back to the couch and reassuming hercrocheting again.

Nervous, Frenchy sat down and began to play with his thumbs.

_If I say something now, would that be rude? Then again, not saying anything at all could be even more rude. Either way, she might get mad…Mon dieu, women are so complicated! Or maybe I'm just a fool! Or both!_

"Calm down, will you? You're more fidgety than a just-graduated from college during his first job interview." Karen told him without taking her eyes from the needles and the yarn.

"Oh." Frenchy finally separated his hands and stopped moving his leg. "I'm sorry."

"And no more apologizing. That seriously gets on my nerves."

"Does that mean you forgive me, Karen?"

"Nothing is subtle with you, is it?"

"Please, just say yes or no. A direct man like me needs direct answers." Frenchy asked her.

Karen smiled. "No, I don't forgive you."

Frenchy accepted her decision maturely and without drama.

At least that was his intention, but in reality, he fell from the chair with a broken heart. "I soiled our friendship! Soiled it! Soiled it!"

At first, Karen put up with his childish screams, but after she pinched her fingers twice, she lost all her patience. "Enough! I said I didn't forgive you because I wasn't angry with you in the first place! There I said it, now be quiet. You're more annoying that a baby crying in a twelve-hour flight!"

Frenchy put himself together after Karen's harsh but honest reprimand. Though still embarrassed for his little display, he couldn't deny how happy he felt now that he knew that his words hadn't caused the damage he thought.

_Still, it feels as if I left her with no other choice other than to tell me what I wanted to hear. Maybe I should buy a book to improve my social skills or something. It'll be the first thing I do once I'm back on land. In the meantime,…_

"Seriously now." Frenchy said. "Sorry I brought up your marriage with Charleston. I just thought it would be a good topic for a conversation, but now that I think about it, it was rude of me just bringing it up out of nowhere. I won't speak of it again if that's what you want, Karen."

"Oh no, you're not freeing yourself so easily of this can of worms you opened, my childish, sea-obsessed friend." Karen pointed one of the needles directly at Frenchy. "Now you're going to tell me how you know about Charleston and me. You don't think I'm going to believe that you came to that conclusion just by looking at my screensaver, do you?"

"Well, that was like sixty percent of my deduction." Frenchy shrugged. "I'm not a private eye or anything of the sort."

"Then what was the other forty percent? My name? Oh yeah, because Karen is not a common name in the slightest."

"…actually, your name was like five percent of my whole deduction—" Frenchy stopped when Karen frowned at him. "Okay! You're right, these things told me very little. What actually led me to that conclusion was this."

Frenchy searched inside one of the giant pockets of his suit.

Karen's eyes glistened when she saw her headphones again. They were scratched and broken in half, but they had returned to her after she had accepted the idea they were gone for good.

"My headphones." Karen whispered. Frenchy gave them to her carefully, and no sooner they were in her hands that she hugged them. "But how did you…"

"It took me by surprise too, you know." Frenchy's voice was trembly. He too was happy of having returned the object to its rightful owner. "I was just there, enjoying a hot-dog when suddenly a guy riding a bike crashed against the stand and broke his leg. It surprised me so much that my poor hot-dog slipped from my hand, only half eaten."

Karen felt a twinge of shame at the memory of Fred. "How horrible."

"I know." Frenchy said. "That hot-dog was especially delicious. Anyway, I waited for the ambulance to take that poor guy before I went on my way. I had taken only a few steps on the sidewalk when I saw them lying in the middle of the streets without no one else putting any attention to them. I found them already broken; maybe it was the fall, or a car rode over them. They looked so ugly and useless, but I recognized them right away. They were identical to Charleston's, so I picked them up and promised to find their owner no matter what! But then, a police officer came to me, and told me I was taking away evidence from a possible crime scene. He took the headphones from me and put them away in his car, so I did what any good Samaritan would do. I waited for a very long time until the officer became too distracted talking on his walkie-talkie, then I elbowed the window, took back the headphones and made a run for it!"

Karen winked once. "And here I though I was the only one in the run from the police! You sure put yourself through a lot of trouble just to get my headphones back."

"_Oui_, I did, and I would do it again! Without them, you and Charleston would no longer be able to talk to each other, and your marriage would fall apart! I couldn't let that happen, not when I see how happy he is whenever he talks to you! I wouldn't let something so sad happen to my beloved surface friends, whom I love as much as the ones under the sea!"

"So he's happy when he talks to me?" Karen said with indifference, even though inside she felt a warm feeling covering her heart.

"Of course! You mean a lot to him, Karen."

"I don't need you to tell me that, I already know." Karen looked away for a moment, and smiled as if she was a high school girl discovering her crush was also interested in her.

"But before I could start looking for the headphone's owner, I had to go to work. My boss would have killed me otherwise. After thinking about it some more while I was selling kelp beer in the shopping mall, I decided it would be better to take the broken headphones directly back to Charleston instead. I didn't know how you really looked like Karen, and what if someone else who wasn't you lied simply to get the headphones for free? It was too risky, and I wasn't going to put your marriage on the line." Frenchy continued. "So I just kept them with me, and then…well, you saw what happened. I got chased down by a group of rowdy teenagers and then you rescued me, and now we're here."

"Looks like neither of us really had a good day back then, huh?" Karen asked.

"I like to think all days are good days, some just a little more or a little less than others."

Karen could picture his smile even if she couldn't see him. It was as annoying as it was touching.

"Each to their philosophy, I guess. As ridiculous as it may be." She said with good-natured mockery.

"Ah, sarcasm. Just like her." Frenchy laughed. Before Karen could ask what he meant, he asked her something he couldn't before, when he wasn't completely sure if she was the real Karen. "What I don't understand is why you threw your headphones at that poor guy riding the bicycle. I'm sure he had it coming, but it seems kind of random if you ask me."

"It was an accident. I never meant to hurt Fred!" Karen was getting really tired of everyone getting that impression. "I was really drunk, and his luck is horrible!"

"Ah, his name's Fred! Of course, I should have known." Frenchy said, snapping his fingers. "If you say it was an accident, then I believe you. We all do stupid things when we are drunk."

"That we do." Karen muttered.

"Have I ever told you of the time I was in artic waters, and I was so drunk that I thought that going for a swim without my suit was the best idea ever? Let's just say that it wasn't, at all." He laughed at the memory. "I caught a cold that lasted a whole month! I tell you Karen, it was one of the worst experiences of my life, but that was to be expected. No one has ever made a smart decision while drunk! They always end badly and with someone getting hurt, I tell you,…Karen?"

"What? I'm fine, keep talking."

"Your crocheting…"

Karen looked down, only to discovered she had had ripped the mask in half.

"That's alright, this mask wasn't turning out as good as I wanted. Besides, I forgot to only make one eyehole for it. What use would Charleston have for a mask with two eyeholes? Then again, the fact it only has one eyehole would make everyone realize it's him. This was a stupid idea for an ugly gift."

"I actually think he'd like it very much."

"Who would like something like this? He'd probably would have thrown it to the garbage the moment he saw it. And I wouldn't blame him, not at all."

_No, no, no. __I will not. I refuse!_

"Karen? Are you okay?"

"You're so annoying, you know that?"

"Are you…?"

_Old man, what did you do to me? Ever since then, I've become such a sentimental idiot. Me, the woman who never cried in public, is now crying in front of a stranger! _

"I- I don't have a handkerchief with me…don't worry, I'll get some napkins! I'll be right back!"

_Oh Frenchy, even after you had a bad, long day, and even when I'm so rude to you, you're still being nice to me. You're a nice man, and it comes naturally to you. You don't have to pretend at all. You simply are. In that sense, you're the opposite of me._ Karen watched how tiny dark spots formed on the destroyed yarn, right where her tears fell. _All I want is to be able to be nice too. I have to, even if just a little. To compensate for how – _

She touched her face and smiled. _Maybe I'm the one who should be wearing the mask. Don't you think so too, Charleston? Soon you will, of that I'm sure._

* * *

Charleston and Clem were lying down underneath a starry sky, each in their respective sleeping bag.

"Hey cousin, are you asleep?"

"How can I when you keep asking stupid questions every five seconds, Clem?"

"Just checking. Okay, good night now."

Charleston hoped Clem would keep his mouth shut. He already was having a lot of trouble falling asleep thanks to the multiple bruises and cuts their little encounter with the birds had left as a result.

Their chasing had eventually led them back to the beginning. He and Clem had hidden inside the tent until the birds had finally given up.

Sadly, the poor tent had been pecked so many times that Charleston had no other choice but to throw it away.

Charleston looked at the stars and began to count them, hoping to bore himself to sleep.

That whole day had gone from bad to worse.

And now, to make sure it ended on a perfect note, Clem wouldn't shut up.

"Hey cousin? Are you awake?"

"I swear I'm going to scream."

"Can you tell me a story? That always makes me sleep like a baby!"

"Of course! Have you ever heard the story of the moron that kept his cousin up with his idiot questions?" Charleston said merrily.

"No. Tell me more!" Clem said with enthusiasm.

"The moron kept asking questions until his cousin died of lack of sleep. Then a meteor hit Earth and everyone else died. The end."

"Beautiful. A classic for the ages." Claim sniffed.

"Oh boy, you and Patrick would make quiet the duo." Charleston imagined that situation, and quickly erased it from his mind before their imagined stupidity began to blight his intelligence.

"Hey cousin."

"No, curse you! You said that a story would make you sleep, so sleep!" Charleston hid his head inside the sleeping bag.

"So when is Karen coming?"

"I've already told you twice before, remember? When we were stuck in the tent waiting for the birds to go away. I'm not telling you again." Charleston replied sternly.

"The three of us should go have dinner or something once she's here! I could home cook for you too. I have this root beer soup recipe I've been dying to try! But first I'll need a kitchen…If only you hadn't dismantled your restaurant, Shelton."

"Don't call me that, especially not in front of Karen or the idiots from the restaurant across the street. If you do, I swear I'll tie a rock to your ankles and drop you into the sea."

"That's stupid! Shelton is your name!"

"Yes, but it's a stupid name, just like yours,_ Clem_! In your case, it's fitting because you're an idiot, but a genius like me cannot be associated with a me like _Shelton_."

"Oh yeah? If you're so smart, then why did you torn apart your restaurant if you had no idea how to put it back up, _Shelty_? That was stupid, even for you!"

"Shut up!"

"Make me!"

They kicked each other with their legs still covered by their sleeping bags. After a couple of low blows, Charleston came out victorious.

"Okay! You win! Just don't kick me again." Clem pleaded, about to cry. "You're really mean, cousin."

"And you're annoying. We're even now, so shut up. Please Clem, I'll drink that root beer with you tomorrow morning if that's what you want, but now…SHUT UP!"

"For real?" Said Clem happily. "I can't wait. Okay, good night Shel—I mean, Charleston."

"Finally." Charleston closed his eye.

"Hey cousin."

Just as he had sworn, Charleston screamed.

"Sorry, I was just thinking. Why don't we just ask your friends for help? That JimBob seemed friendly enough, and so did that woman from before. With their help, the Crumb Basket would be back up in a few days!"

"No, Clem." Charleston stopped screaming to cut his cousin's train of thought short before it planted stupid ideas in his mind. "I don't want their help. This is something I need to do in my own way."

"Why?"

"Because I want to prove to—" Charleston sank deeper into his sleeping bag. "Just because."

"I cannot argue with that."

"Then drop the subject and go to sleep."

This time, Clem did so, but not because his cousin had ordered him to.

His own mind was busy thinking of something.

_He's so weird, but I want to help him. That's what family is for. But how can I? Mmm, let's see…yeah, that could work! Don't worry cousin, Clem's got a plan, and it's clever, even if I didn't go to college, or high school, or elementary school, or kindergarten__ for that matter._


	13. The Shampoo Curse and Kelp for Breakfast

**_Thanks a lot for reading and to Dreamer1920 and America's Got Fandom for the reviews!_**

* * *

_The return of a hero!_

_After his humiliating defeat at the hands of Bobby Bass, Patrick Man puts on his cape and patrols the city again!_

_His adventures will never end!_

_What's no one's favorite hero doing climbing the pier's pole farthest from the shore?_

"Hello, birdies!" Patrick screamed to the dozens of seagulls cuddling inside their nests. He scared them, making them caw in unison. The pier's underside had always been a sanctuary of birds, and thought it smelled horrible and was even filthier than his own trailer, Patrick loved paying his feathery friends a visit at least once a week. "I brought you breakfast!"

With a silly grin on the corner of his mouth, he searched inside his backpack and took out a big, wet Slabby Patty. He clung to the pole with one arm as he reached his hand to the birds, who quickly surrounded it and started pecking the free food. The patty soon became crumbles, and a few seconds later, the crumbles disappear into their bellies.

"Hey, you didn't leave anything for me!" Patrick said with teary, angry eyes. "It's always the same with you! I thought we had a deal!"

The seagulls ignored him, with some returning to sleep in their nests while other flew toward the shiny, hot sky to go look for new accessories for their homes or hunt some worms for their young chicks.

"Oh well, I forgive you." Patrick shrugged. He hugged the pole and prepared to slide down. Before he departed, he inhaled a lungful of salty air and gave one last shout to his friends. "Okay birdies, see you next week!"

The seagull closest to him fluttered its wings in fear and surprise. In its panic, the animal knocked down its nest to the ocean.

Patrick watched in horror as the little eggs fell to the water, still safe inside their nest, but not for long, as the water was already leaking inside it and making it sink.

"NO!" Patrick let go of the pole and crashed against the water directly with his belly and face. After swallowing almost half a liter of saltwater that made his stomach grumble, Patrick saved the nest and quickly began to make his way up to the top of the pole.

He returned the nest to a very angry mom seagull, who pecked his hand twice as he put the nest back in its rightful place.

"You don't have to thank me, ma'am!" Patrick said with pride as the bird rested its legs on top of his head and pecked him in the forehead. "It's all in a day's work for Patrick Man!"

Patrick saluted as if he was a war hero giving a speech. He looked at the nest again and patted each of the eggs tenderly, without realizing he was only making the seagull angrier and more distressed.

"Huh, you're one funny egg." Patrick said. The strange-looking egg wasn't oval shaped or warm to the touch like the others. If Patrick had to describe it, he'd say it looked like some kind of earmuffs, like the ones he wore in winter, only uglier and with silly antennas sticking out from the earpads. Weirdly intrigued by it, Patrick grabbed the strange egg and inspected it carefully. "I think I've seen this egg before, but where? I think it was in a dream, or in a movie…Wait, this isn't an egg!"

Patrick put them on. "This is something I saw in television last night! An electric pillow, with radio included. Stay tuned, even in dreams."

Just as Patrick was done repeating the slogan with a voice identical to the one from the informercial, the seagull finally made him lose his balance by piercing his nose with its beak. Patrick screamed and grabbed his nose with both his hands.

He fell to the water as if he was a hefty rock dropping from a cliff. Once he emerged to the surface again, he forgot all about the pain and smiled.

His new electric pillow had been a treasure he hadn't expected to find in the realm of his birdie friends, and he liked it a lot!

"Just wait until I show it to Sandy and JimBob!" Patrick said happily, taking the electric pillow off and putting it away in his backpack. "Wait, showing them what? I forgot. Oh well."

He swam slowly to the shore, whistling the informercial's jingle lazily and without a care in the world.

* * *

"Come on, cousin!"

"No, Clem."

"But why not?"

"Reason number one, seawater is disgusting. It's filled with seagull's droppings, fish's pee, salt and sand. Some fishes even poo sand, can you believe it? No, I'm not going to bathe there, and neither will you! We'll go to the beach showers and that's it. I've been using them since I tore down my restaurant, and they work just fine."

"Aw, but seawater builds character! Nothing like washing one's body in the natural bathtub our planet gave us, the ocean."

"No."

"You're no fun!"

"And you're just disgusting." After almost having to drag his cousin to the beach showers, Charleston put down his bag and took out a bottle of shampoo and a bar of soap for each. "I know you only shower like once a month, but if I'm going to be stuck with you for days, then the least you can do is shower daily like a normal human—Clem, what are you doing?!"

"Just getting ready for a bath."

"Don't pull your damn trunks down, you stupid simpleton!" Charleston rushed to his cousin and pulled the swimwear up before he saw things that would haunt him forever. "You want to get arrested for public indecency or what?! This isn't a nude beach, for heaven's sake!"

"But how am I supposed to take a shower with my trunks on?" Clem exclaimed toward the sky, confused. "It makes no sense!"

"I don't know, and I don't want to know. Find a way and don't tell me about it! Seriously, what's wrong with my family? I wish I was adopted!" Charleston slammed the shampoo and the bar of soap against Clem's chest and left him to his own devices while he went to a distant shower to have a moment of peace away from him.

"Cousin Charleston is really weird. Who would pick a shower over the sea to have a relaxing bath?" Clem sighed and nodded. "Poor cousin, his long-awaited meeting with Karen is driving him mad. I guess I can humor him and try to adapt to this land's strange traditions. I don't want to make him angry…well, angrier than he already is."

Clem gargled a few times with the shampoo and put the soap on his head. He started to sing, enjoying his bath as he watched the people on the beach. They all looked like they were having a good time.

He saw a pirate and a parrot building a sandcastle that was destroyed by an obese man, who cruelly laughed at his action and ignored their protests.

Not so far away from them, Clem caught a glance of a buff man talking with Charleston's sworn nemesis. What was his name? Mr. Grads or something? Clem couldn't remember. He didn't understand why Charleston hated him so much; to Clem, he seemed like a nice guy, but if his cousin said he was evil and needed to be destroyed, he wouldn't state otherwise.

"I like this place." Clem smiled. "Maybe I'll move and live here someday. Cousin Charleston would be so happy. And who knows, maybe I can bring our whole family with me!"

He daydreamed with the idea for a while until he saw two more familiar faces on the beach.

A jolly man with glasses and an energetic woman with a flower adorning her hair.

"It's them!" Clem gave a small jump. The bar of soap fell from his head and almost made him slip. "The guys I need to talk to! Oh, but how can I approach them without cousin Charleston noticing me? Think, Clem!"

The engines inside Clem's brain gave a small, slow turn that brought him the image of a prank he had seen on the internet the other day. He laughed at the memory, but wondered what it had to do with his whole situation.

"That prank was very funny though…" Clem chuckled, repeating the image in his head over and over, closing his eyes to see it with a higher definition.

"Hey!" Someone said to him while snapping his fingers close to his face. Clem opened his eyes and discovered the pirate and the parrot from before. The bird rested on the pirate's shoulders and looked at Clem with curiosity. "Sorry to interrupt your dreams, but do you mind? That fool Bobby Bass ruined our day and me and my friend Potty just want to go home, so if you're done with the shower, can you let us use it? All the other ones are occupied."

"Huh?" Clem tilted his head. "Sorry, you lost me after 'hey'."

"Great, another genius. It seems the title of the biggest fool in town doesn't belong to Patrick anymore."

"Potty, don't be rude!"

"I'm not, I'm being honest."

"Just hush, you winged pest."

Clem watched them argue as his brain finished producing a plan.

His biggest, sneakiest plan ever.

"That's it!" Clem exclaimed, making the man and the parrot scream with high pitched voices. "Say fellows, can you do me a favor? Please, this is very important."

"Let me think about it." The parrot said with a sarcasm that went over Clem's head. "Nah."

"Ignore the bird. He's just salty because of what happened to our sandcastle." The pirate said, even though he was just as salty about the matter, perhaps even more. "Well, you're new around here, aren't you? I don't think I have seen you before, or have I? You do seem a bit familiar…"

"He's the idiot we saw yesterday at the pa—" the parrot started, but the pirate interrupted him without paying any attention to him.

"Oh, alright, I'll help you out this time, strange buddy. Just don't make a habit out of it. I'm a pirate, not a charity!"

"Thank you! Everyone's so kind around here." Clem said, touched almost to the point of tears.

"Clearly you don't know this place." The parrot jumped to the top of the pirate's hat and closed his eyes. "Not in the slightest."

While the parrot prepared to take a nap, Clem whispered something to the pirate's ear.

"Ah, I see…" the pirate said with a devious smile as Clem handed the bottle of shampoo to him and cocked his head toward Charleston. "Ha! Of course, my friend! Nothing will improve my and Potty's mood like pulling a prank on good old Charleston! I don't know why you want me to do this, but who cares! I'll do it in the name of sheer fun."

The pirate gave Clem a swift, friendly punch in the shoulder before rushing toward Charleston, who was taking his time and prolonging his bath as much as he could, without caring about the long line of people waiting for him to finish.

"Thank you, mister pirate!" Clem waved goodbye to his new friend. He shook the water off his body as if he was a dog and went directly toward JimBob and Sandy. "I can't believe my plan is actually working. Oh mama, if you could see your little boy now!"

Many, many miles away, an old woman, one of the eldest of the Charleston clan, sneezed with a stuffy nose. "Oh no, I think I may be getting…tuberculosis!"

Her whole family gasped. A few of them swooned at the terrible news.

The woman blew her nose with a napkin and sighed with relief. "No, wait. It's just an allergy, never mind."

* * *

"Man, where's Patrick?" Sandy said in exasperation. "He's already one hour late!"

"You know how he likes to wander around." JimBob laughed as he played with Gary. He made the cat chase around the end of a stick as he doodled with it in the sand. "Don't worry, I'm sure he'll be here soon."

"At least you two are having fun." Sandy smiled lightly. "Whatever, I might as well enjoy the beach while he arrives. Hey JimBob, pass me a soda, will you?"

"We're out of sodas." JimBob answered so quickly that Sandy barely could understand him.

"What? How? I brought twenty!" Sandy replied, looking inside the cool box only to discover all the cans inside it were empty. She looked at JimBob, who looked back at her with his lips pursed.

He stopped moving the stick. Gary jumped on it and bit it as if it was a freshly caught prey.

"I was thirsty!" JimBob confessed with great guilt. "It was an extreme thirst!"

_Well, this reunion to plan our performance in the Beach Palooza just got so much better_. Sandy thought bitterly as she patted JimBob's head and assured him that she didn't mind. _Come on, Patrick! Hurry up! Otherwise I'll die of dehydration…boy, am I overly dramatic today. It must be the sunlight._

Not so far away from them, hidden by a multitude of beachgoers, Patrick slowly made his way to his friends.

In his mind, he was just in time, and he saw no reason to hurry at all. Instead, he strolled along the shore with his hands inside the pockets of his shorts. He was still whistling the informercial's jingle.

"Pardon me." Patrick stopped walking and turned around. He met a man he had never seen before. They smiled at each other, and the stranger reached his hand toward him. "I believe you dropped your headphones, my good man. Please, allow me to give them back to you."

Patrick's eyes wide opened and he searched inside his backpack. "You're correct, kind fellow. It seems that, while I was enjoying my idle stroll, the object you now present to me escaped my backpack. I thank you heartfully for giving it back, as losing it would have caused my heart great sorrow."

"Thank me not, friend. I too would have suffered a million of spiritual woes if I had lost such a magnificent object." Clem said. "Though I must add that your headphones do remind me of the ones my beloved cousin told me about many yesterdays ago. Could it be, by any chance and if fate would have it so, that they are one and the same?"

"Nonsense." Patrick waved his hand before putting the headphones back inside the backpack. "For you see, this treasure's true nature is that of an electric pillow. To call it headphones would be a horrid misunderstanding of its function."

"Friend, I know see the irrefutable logic and reason behind your words, and I can but to apologize for my previous impertinence and snide insinuations." Clem said humbly. "Could you find it in your heart to forgive the silly ramblings of this man, who's not perfect and errs more than he should?"

"I'm quite certain I can, gentle stranger. Let us shake hands as symbol of the restitution of our fleeting, yet meaningful kinship before we part ways." Patrick offered his hand to Clem, who accepted it without hesitation. "Alas, I must go now."

"Fare thee well. I pray you find happiness and luck in your journeys, no matter what difficulties you happen upon." Clem said.

"Be well. Mayhaps we shall meet again someday. I'll be awaiting our next reunion with an anxious heart." Patrick answered.

After they said bye to each other, they continued their ways. They were very surprised when they noticed they were going in the same direction.

"Friend, are you following me, or did destiny really tangle our ways in a single one, as the mischievous lady she is?" Patrick asked Clem.

"That appears to be the case." Clem replied, shocked at the coincidence. "Shall we continue together then? I do not wish to slow your path with a most substantial delay."

"You do not, for time is by my side, and my friends are nearby and blessed with great patience. Would you like to meet them, friend? I'm sure you'll find their company as exquisite and enjoyable as I do." Patrick suggested with a childish voice.

"Lo, I cannot. I carry my own quest, and I cannot forfeit it. You see, I must make haste and find this respectable gentleman named JimBob, and the beautiful lady that answers to the name of Sandy! I have important matters I wish to discuss with them."

"How! The people you speak of are non-other than my friends!"

"Surely you jest!" Clem exclaimed in complete disbelief.

"I jest you not." Patrick said, no less shocked. Immediately after, he went back to normal and took out a wet Slabby Patty from his backpack and offered half of it to Clem. "Well then, shall we proceed together?"

"You needn't ask!"

Clem and Patrick, each putting an arm on the other's shoulders, continued their way toward JimBob and Sandy while they laughed and ate the Slabby Patty loudly and annoyingly.

"That has to be…" said Mr. Slabs, watching the two fools disappearing into the distance, "…the stupidest conversation I've ever had the disgrace to hear."

"You can say that again." Larry said, scratching his head. "I think I lost half my neurons just by listening to them. I need an aspirin, or two."

"Don't let me keep you, boy. But before you go…" Mr. Slabs said. With a darker, more serious tone, he added, "Do we have a deal, then? I'll pay you well."

"I don't know Mr. Slabs." Larry answered, folding his arms, "I had plans to perform at the Beach Palooza. If I do what you ask, I won't be able to attend the festival at all."

"Larry me boy, see it as an inversion." Mr. Slabs said like a wise mentor as he looked at the sea. "With the money I'll pay you, you'll be able to finally open that gym you've always dreamed of. Surely that's more important to you than some silly presentation in a beach festival!"

Subtly, Mr. Slabs took out a check from his wallet, folded it in half and put it on Larry's hand. "Think about it, lad. An offer like this comes once in a lifetime."

Larry stared at the paper on his hand. He thought about the offer for a moment. His reluctant and conflicted expression worried Mr. Slabs.

He was sure he would refuse, but his worries disappeared when Larry finally offered him his hand. Mr. Slabs shook it hastily, as if he had closed a millionaire deal.

"Very well." Larry said deeply. "I'll make sure Charleston doesn't get anywhere near the Trusty Slab, the secret sauce recipe or the Beach Palooza that day. You have my word."

"I trust you won't disappoint me, boy." Mr. Slabs replied sternly. "The last thing I want is him ruining the day for Pearl and me with one of his evil schemes. I know Charleston, and I'm aware that if he fails to steal the recipe that day, he's petty enough to attempt to sabotage Pearl's presentation only to spite me."

"Don't worry. I'll keep Charleston away from you and your treasures…" Larry cracked his neck and fingers before grabbing a coconut laying on the sand. The coconut shattered into a dozen of pieces between his hands, as if it was an eggshell. Mr. Slabs smiled with satisfaction at Larry's unmeasured strength, his heart finally at peace. ",…and if he tries anything, I promise I won't hold back."

* * *

"Hurry up, you selfish moron! The rest of us want to use the shower too, you know!"

"You've been at it for almost half an hour. Think of the water and the environment!"

Charleston repeated the last sentence with a mocking, venomous voice that made the other man cry and run back to his mother. The rest of the people waiting in line became angrier at Charleston, but he continued to ignore them as if they didn't exist.

"I'll stop using the shower when I want to." Charleston told them haughtily as he scrubbed the shampoo off his hair. He opened his eye and glared at them as menacingly as he could. A few of them backed off in fear. "And you idiots better accept that; otherwise, I'll make you pay for you—ouch!"

He rubbed his eye and twitched his mouth at stinging sensation of the shampoo leaking inside his socket.

Someone began to laugh.

Incensed by their gall, Charleston pressed the shower's button again and scrubbed his hair once more, twice as fiercely than before. "Who laughed? You better tell me this second, or I swear I'll make the rest of your lives a living—ouch! Again?!"

He punched the shower's button and scrubbed his hair as if it was infested with lice. He opened his eye slightly before facing the laughing multitude, and saw his hands covered with of foam and bubbles.

"Stupid five-dollar shampoo!" Charleston exclaimed. He scrubbed and scrubbed, but the shampoo never seemed to wash away. "Why isn't it coming off? What sorcery is this?! Clem, where are you? Come help me, you useless fool!"

The others started to laugh openly at his misfortune. None of them had any wish to tell Charleston that it was Patchy who was behind his curse of endless shampoo.

The pirate took advantage of the moments where Charleston stopped scrubbing his hair to pour a generous amount of shampoo on his head, and quickly got out of his limited eyesight before he could see him.

The process went on for a long while. Each time, Charleston grew more desperate and furious, and the multitude watching him laughed harder.

"Forget about building sandcastles, Potty!" Patchy said to his friend just as Charleston finally lost his patience, and almost his sanity, and ran screaming to the sea and throw himself inside it, with the hopes the water he had previously badmouthed would help him break free from his shampoo curse once and for all. "This is where the real fun is! I can't wait to try this on Bobby Bass! That new guy in town is a genius, a genius I tell you!"

Potty answered only with a loud snore.

* * *

"Good morning, Karen! Breakfast's ready!"

As usual, Frenchy gave her the only kind of nourishment his submarine had to offer.

A can of preserved kelp, mint flavored. It quenched any thirst and satisfied any hunger, or so claimed the legend written on the can. Karen had to admit that much was true, but it was a shame those benefits didn't come together with a good flavor.

"Wonderful, my favorite." Karen sighed as she reluctantly opened her can and started to eat. "Damn, what I wouldn't do for a cup of coffee right now."

As much as she despised her breakfast, she ate it slowly and silently. Disgusting as it was, it was a still distraction that gave her a good reason not to look directly at Frenchy.

The memory of her brief moment of crying in front of him made her face burn with shame. She had managed to cut her tears short and go back to normal after only a few minutes, but the damage was already done.

Though he hadn't mentioned the incident again, Frenchy had changed with her. He had become gentler and more enthusiastic, as if he thought his happiness was a barrier that would keep Karen's worries at bay.

She hated it. It's not as if she would have preferred it if Frenchy pitied her and insisted on talking about her problems; if nothing, she was sure she would hate that more.

But Frenchy's attempts at pretending everything was fine were so painfully overacted that Karen almost felt embarrassed by them. In her non-expressive manner, she appreciated his efforts, but that didn't make them any less cringy.

"Ah, it's an incredible, exceptional, extraordinary day." Frenchy announced as he looked through the periscope. "We are getting closer to our destination. Just a few days more until we arrive; doesn't that sound great, Karen? You'll be with Charleston soon enough. That's good, amazing, the best thing ever!"

French made a strange victory dance.

Karen could hardly watch him without her heart stopping because of second-hand embarrassment. At the same time, the announcement caused a hole in her stomach.

What was it she felt? Excitement? Or just dread at the prospect of finally facing her fears?

_My fears…that's what I've reduced you and our reunion to, Charleston._

She looked outside the submarine's window, hoping to see a school of fish or any other exotic animal she could look at so she could continue ignoring Frenchy. To her bad luck, that part of the sea was empty, and her silence only seemed to make Frenchy grow louder and more annoying.

"Hey Karen, you want me to show you some pictures of my underwater friends and adventures?" Frenchy said, putting down a large album of photos on the floor. He sat in front of it and opened it. He skimmed through he pages as if he was a kid reading the newest issue of his favorite comic. "Ah, I remember this one. I was filming some footage of Ms. Puff boat school that day. Everything was going smoothly, until she and SpongeBob rode me over with a boat…_mon dieu_, that hurt like heck. It was still fun though."

Frenchy laughed. Karen was too lost in thought to listen to his ramblings.

_I wonder if you feel the same, Charleston. I bet you do; after all, you wanted to call off our meeting just as much as I did, perhaps even more._

"Ah, this one is pretty especial. I took it from Patrick's secret box when he wasn't around. It was for the best, and now poor SpongeBob doesn't have to fear anyone else seeing his embarrassing Christmas' party photo." Frenchy looked at the photo, and he couldn't help to chuckle.

_Why was that? Are you really that scared I won't like you when I see you? You silly man! I promised you I would, didn't I? Sure, we were both drunk back then, but that doesn't mean_—

Karen gasped. The empty can escaped her hands. A seed of doubt began to sprout rapidly inside her mind.

_No…no! I promised I would! I'm sure I will! But if I'm so convinced of that, why am I so afraid he won't? What makes me think I'm any less shallow than I consider him to be? But… would it really be shallow of either of us? We both have our expectations, and that's not bad, is it? We are human! The last thing I'd want is for him to pretend he likes me when he doesn't, and I don't think he'd want me to pretend either. But, but he promised, we promised, I_—

"Ah, this one is amazing. I was in Rock Bottom that day when suddenly—" Frenchy dropped the photo in surprise when Karen knelt before him and grabbed him harshly by the shoulders. "_Sacrament!_ You've been infected by the underwater madness disease! Don't worry Karen, I have the antidote!"

"I'm not mad or insane, Frenchy." Karen told him, looking at directly at the center of his helmet. "To be honest, I think I'm seeing everything with more clarity than before."

"S-sure…" Frenchy said, a little scared. "Do you want me to keep showing you my pictures or would you like to do something else?"

"Let's do this. I'm going to ask you a few questions, but first, I need you to promise you'll be honest with me. Just be honest with me no matter what, do you understand?" Karen let him go and put her hands on her knees. "Please, it would mean a lot to me."

Frenchy crossed his legs and folded his arms. He closed the album and looked at Karen.

"Alright, I promise." He said. "Ask."

"What does Charleston look like?" Karen asked the question with visible effort, as if the words hurt her tongue. "Describe him much as you can. I…I really need to know."

The question entered Frenchy's ears quicker than his mind understood them.

Outside the submarine, a blue whale swam by so closely that its shadow covered the submarine whole, causing a fleeting moment of darkness to befell upon Frenchy and Karen.


	14. Falling out with friends and family

_**Thank you all for reading and to Dreamer 1920 for the review! Phew, this is a long chapter but hopefully you'll still like it :)**_

* * *

Clem made sure Charleston was deeply asleep one last time before putting him inside the boat. His cousin, still tightly curled inside his sleeping bag, babbled some nonsense that was only coherent inside his dreams.

Clem froze, thinking Charleston would wake up and ruin his plan, but he continued to sleep as soundly as a kitten cuddled in front of a warm hearth.

_It's a good thing that bottle of Root Beer I brought was extra strong. Then again, you've always been kind of a lightweight, Shelton…I mean, Charleston. I drank most of it, and yet I woke up as fresh as a flower in May and you can't even open your eye! Oh well, that just makes my plan a lot much easier. _

Clem pushed the boat into the cold, calm waters of the ocean. He watched it as it slowly moved on toward the rising morning sun.

_Sorry, but I'm doing this for you and Karen. All I want is for the two of you to be happy._

"Leave it all to me." Clem bided farewell to his cousin just as a bride sees her brave sailor husband set sail toward an adventure. "Don't worry, I'll come get you once me and the others are done for the day. Try to relax and enjoy the sea in the meanwhile, okay?"

He put his hands on his hips. A satisfied, proud smile adorned his face. He stood still for a moment before he started skipping happily across the beach as he followed the trail of his own footprints.

Eventually, he reached the streets.

The rest of Clem's journey back to the ruins of the Crumb Basket would be a bit more complicated, but he was confident he would find the way. He needed only to go north, turn to the right once and then turn left twice to get to his destination.

"I hope the others are already there!" Clem laughed as he left the beach behind. "We need to hurry if we want to make as much progress as possible! Golly, I sure love building things. This'll be so much fun!"

His chuckles and mumblings could be heard by the only witness of his presence in the beach. With a glass of egg yolk milkshake in his hand, Larry tried to make sense of what he had just seen.

"This is a very peculiar situation." He said after shrugging off the fleeting urgency of going after Charleston before the boat drifted away farther from the shore, "then again, it's none of my business; besides, every time I try to make things better, I just end up messing them up a lot more. Maybe it'd be best If I stay out of this one."

He took the last sip of his milkshake and went back inside his trailer, pretending it all had been just a bizarre morning hallucination.

* * *

Karen wondered if Frenchy had passed out inside his diving suit.

"What's the matter? Did my stare turn you into stone? Look, I know my hair is messy but that doesn't make me a Medusa."

She waited for a reaction, but Frenchy remained quiet.

"Frenchy?" Karen's voice was starting to lose its cool. "Jacques?"

It was like talking to a wall.

Her temper resurfaced and showed traces of its presence in the form of a frown.

_Is he mocking me? Does he really think I'm a Medusa? Is he smiling and laughing at me under his stupid helmet? If he doesn't answer right now, I swear I'll take that damned thing off his head and cram it up his—_

"Ah, it's done!" Frenchy snapped his fingers. Karen gave out a small gasp that was an inch away from becoming a fully-fledged scream. "Charleston's image is perfectly illustrated on my mind now! Okay, I'm ready to describe him with so much detail that the real one will pale in comparison, Karen."

"And did you really need to stay still and in complete silence to do that?" Karen said with an arched eyebrow. "That's a little creepy, Frenchy."

"Maybe, but it works." Frenchy laughed. "My memory is like a photograph in a dark room. It takes some time for the image to manifest, but once it does, it reflects reality to perfection."

"Then you really need to upgrade to digital as soon as possible. It would save you a lot of time." Karen snorted at her own comment.

The little amusement she found in it vanished when her time to ask questions came.

Her determination, so firm just a few minutes ago, had become tense and brittle.

_I mean, we promised we wouldn't call each other, but we never said anything about asking other people for some hints about our appearance. I'm not breaking our promise, I'm just bending the rules a little. I'm not doing anything wrong…right?_

"Karen?" Frenchy poked her in the forehead. "Ah, you're not sleeping with your eyes open. Sorry, I was just making sure; it happens to me sometimes. Anyway, you can ask me anything now…but only if you're ready! I'm not hurrying you up because my legs are becoming numb or anything like that! _Mon dieu_, what gave you that idea?" He fidgetily stretched his legs and crossed them again. "Ah, much better."

"What—" Karen had to stop and take a deep breath before continuing. She could hear her heartbeats ringing inside her ears. "What color is Charleston's only eye?"

_Really, Karen? Is that your first question? You're off to a great start…as always._

While she mocked herself, Frenchy sighed and put a hand in the air and the other on his chest.

"It's a beautiful shade of red," Frenchy spoke with so much solemnity than even a poet would have told him to calm down, "and it's surrounded by a mesmerizingly yellow sclera. The contrast it makes with his crimson iris is really a sight to admire."

"He has a red iris and a yellow sclera?" Karen covered her mouth. "That can't be healthy! Is he okay? Does it hurt him? I still have some money with me! I'll buy him all the medicines he needs. Forget that, I'll pay him a surgery so he doesn't suffer anymore! How much do you think it will cost? I'll definitely need more money than this, but it doesn't matter. I'll find a job, or get a loan from the bank, or maybe I'll just rob the bank. Whatever it takes! Oh my dear, poor Charleston…"

"Ah, my mistake. I was thinking of someone else that reminds me of him. _Je suis __désolé_, Karen." Frenchy said as Karen desperately looked insider her bag for things she could sell.

She was already wondering what it would be a good price for her laser gun.

Frenchy gestured again. "Charleston's eye is blue, like the shade you would get if you mixed a dash of cobalt and turquoise with a drop of chartreuse. That's the color of Charleston's eye. It's like the color of the sky on a cloudless summer's day; it´s like the reflection of the ocean's surface in a place where the seaweed grows; it's like the wings of a butterfly—"

"Alright, I get it!" Karen snapped at Frenchy. "Stop talking as if you were an actor on a stage. I asked you to tell me the color of his eye, not to write him an ode!"

_You were actually making me jealous. I don't know how to feel about that. Thanks a lot for the awkward thought, Frenchy, you dramatic fool._

"Nobody gets my poetry." Frenchy said, offended by the lack of respect for his art.

"Whatever you say, discount Shakespeare." Karen rolled her eyes. Softly, she added, "So it's blue, huh? That's nice."

She smiled at the image her mind painted for her. She had to bite her lips so they didn't form a silly, whimsical smile.

_Okay, now you know you have a blue-eyed husband. That's enough. Be happy with it and stop before you—_

"And is he…" Karen gulped. She subtly started to play with her thumbs, "you know…muscular?"

She felt a warm flow of blood rushing to her face. Her cheeks became pink. She was ready to dismiss any possible comment Frenchy could make about it by blaming it on the submarine's temperature.

"Charleston? Muscular?" Frenchy cackled and slapped his knee. "Yeah right, and Patrick is a genius and Mr. Slabs is a philanthropist! Oh Karen, you say the wittiest things!"

Karen felt the weight of disappointment opressing her chest, as if it was an anvil chained to her heart.

Frenchy kept laughing until he looked at Karen's face again.

"I mean…" Ashamed, he cleared his throat. "Sorry."

"It's okay, I don't mind." Karen was surprised at how natural and honest her words were. She said them with a peaceful smile.

She knew they weren't meant only to Frenchy, but also to herself.

Strong, buff men had always been her Achilles' heel, and even when she had never expressed it out loud, she had hoped Charleston would fit this criterium.

Karen had always been aware of this latent wish buried deep inside her heart, but she didn't realize her desire for it to be true was so strong until she felt the weighing disappointment of reality.

The illusion she had created and cherished for so many years shattered before her, leaving only useless shards that would never a complete a whole again.

And yet, she didn't mind.

As heavy as her disappointment was, she didn't regret having listened to the truth.

_So what if he's a runt? He's still my runt, and I still love him. I always will, no matter what he looks like. My stupid, broken expectations will never change that. Why did I think they would? Our relationship may be weird, but it's not so fragile! I know this, I always have._

Slowly, the anvil tied to her heart started to become lighter and lighter, until it disappeared.

"Who cares if he's a bit skinny? He's still a genius, clever and somewhat evil. Usually, I'd say that's a flaw, but I'm sure that's something you like about him, Karen. After all, you're a little evil too. No offense…" Frenchy said in his desperate attempt to make amends for his previous rudeness.

"Not much taken." Karen smiled at him.

They laughed together, both relieved that the growing tension between them had come to an end.

Or it would have, if Karen's mind didn't insist in continuing with its cruel thoughts and questions.

_Why was I so scared? What frightened me so much? I know it wasn't the possibility that I'd stop loving Charleston. That was a lie I told myself. No, the real answer to those questions is another question, the same question I've been wanting to ask Frenchy from the beginning, but I'm not brave enough to do it. Mostly because…_

"You'll make an amazing couple. You already do, but I'm sure everything between you two will be so much better once you are together." Frenchy gave Karen a thumbs up with both his hands.

_…__I don't think I can deal with the answer, even if I already know what it is. _

"I'm not so sure about that." Karen chuckled without humor. She could see Frenchy flinching at her bitter words. "Frenchy…"

"_Oui_?" the man said, still recovering by the sudden shift of the mood.

"Do you think Charleston will like someone like me?"

There was no going back. Karen's stomach sunk to her feet.

People always said that the anxious expectation was much worse than the moment of truth. If that was a law of the universe, then her case was the exception.

Frenchy tilted his head and scratched his helmet. The gesture was so silly that it would have made Karen laugh if it also didn't make her blood boil.

She had opened her heart to him, no matter how quickly and slightly, and that was all the reaction she got from him?

"Someone like you? I don't think I understand."

Those words stung her more than any direct answer would_._

Was he being naively sincere, or just cynically sarcastic?

For all she knew, maybe Frenchy was showing her a new facet of himself. One that was crueler, one that enjoyed throwing mean-spirited jokes at her, maybe not with the intention of making her feel miserable, but just to amuse himself.

She was guilty of doing the same thing sometimes. Why would Frenchy be any different?

"Frenchy, please don't do this. Just answer the question with a 'yes' or a 'no'." Karen made a great effort so her words wouldn't sound so pathetic. She succeeded, and more than a plea, they came out more like threat.

"I'm sorry, but I really don't get what you're saying." Frenchy insisted. "What do you mean by 'someone like you'? You make it sound as if there was something wrong with you."

"There's something really wrong with me, and we both know what it is. The mirror reminds me of it every day, and your eyes don't deceive you." Karen said calmly but silently enraged. "It's alright, you don't have to pretend. I've accepted this part of myself a long time ago, and it doesn't bother me anymore. Please, just answer my question."

"You mean your hair?" Frenchy asked. Karen never had wished to punch someone in the face so badly in her life. "It's a bit unruly and messy, but that's not something a good shampoo can't fix! Don't worry, I'm sure Charleston won't care about that at all; who knows, maybe he'll like it."

Frenchy laughed again.

This time, Karen didn't join him.

"Are you having fun?" her words were cold and stern.

Frenchy stopped laughing.

What had happened? Why was she so angry with him out of a sudden?

"Of course I'm having fun." He spoke as politely as he could. "You're a good person to talk to, Karen."

"Do you think I'm an idiot? Do you get a sick kick out of mocking me?"

The glare Karen directed at him was as piercing and sharp as a dagger. Taken aback, Frenchy wondered what he could have possibly said to upset her to that extent.

"What are you talking about? I would never do that!" Insulted by the unfair accusation, Frenchy allowed his temper to flourish. "I—"

"I don't want to hear it." Karen cut him off without mercy. "Just answer the damned question and save us both the drama. I'm not in the mood for your stupid antics anymore."

"You don't have to be so rude, Karen. Especially when I've never given you any reason to—"

"Shut up and answer the question." Karen grabbed the photo album between them and threw it against the wall. Frenchy watched as his beloved photos scattered across the submarine's floor, some of them visibly damaged and torn. "Do you think Charleston will like someone like me? Yes or no, Frenchy? It's not rocket science, it's just a stupid question. Yes or no? Answer me!"

"Karen, what are you—"

"Yes or no?!"

"No, of course he won't like someone like you! Who could ever like someone like you?" Frenchy punched his knees. The helmet gave his voice a thundering echo that transformed it into a roar. "You're mean, you're rude. You are horrible, Karen!"

Karen felt as if he had struck her, yet it was Frenchy who recoiled at his own words and backed away from her. For a moment, they stood frozen in absolute silence.

"Well," Karen muttered after what it felt like hours, "that wasn't so hard, was it?"

Frenchy gasped softly.

He looked so stupid, so shocked, so overwhelmed by emotions. It amazed Karen how he could express himself so much without the need to show his face.

Unlike him, Karen felt nothing, or so her mind told her.

She hadn't expected a different answer, but neither had she expected the truth to be thrown at her as abruptly as Frenchy had done.

Maybe, deep down, stupidly so, she had hoped that this time everything would be different.

That maybe the answer she had convinced herself to be an absolute truth would be contradicted and proved wrong.

_That was my idiot mistake, not his. He only did what I asked him to. I have no one to blame but myself._

She could only hope her feigned stoicism would become real, and that Frenchy's sharp-edged words would eventually dull with time, even if in that moment they sliced her like razors.

* * *

"I'm exhausted!" JimBob wiped the sweat off his forehead with the towel draped around his shoulders.

The sun was starting to set. Its rays had left their mark on his arms. He knew his skin would itch and peel off in the morning, but he didn't mind. The day of work he had spent together with his friends had been for a good cause, and more fun than he had expected.

He looked at the Crumb Basket, or at least, to the foundations that would become a restaurant after a few more days of work.

The progress they had made in just one day was remarkable. When JimBob had commented about how quickly the building was coming together, Sandy had explained to him that it was because of Charleston's blueprints.

They were complex and elaborated, but also strangely elegant and easy to follow.

"The only reason he never made much progress by himself is because he's really inept in this kind of stuff. When it comes to manual work and building, Charleston's clearly better in coming up with the theory than getting it done in practice." She had told JimBob as they both lifted a large plank of wood and nailed it to the floor. "I don't think he'd be able to build one of those spaceships models for children, not even if his life depended on it."

"Then it's a good thing his cousin asked for our help." JimBob had said with a smile. "I'd have done so from the beginning, but you know how stubborn and prideful Charleston is. Besides, I realized I had no right to interfere in his troubles if he didn't want me to…but now he does, and I'm glad I can help."

"Does he though?" Sandy had suggested ominously.

"What do you mean?"

"It was his cousin Clem who came to us and asked for our help. Charleston never told us anything, and I haven't seen him all day. I don't know JimBob, but to me, it feels as if all of this was all Clem's half-baked idea. I doubt he consulted Charleston on the matter…"

Their conversation had remained unresolved thanks to Patrick and Clem, who had hammered their thumbs at the same moment. JimBob and Sandy had rushed to their aid as if they were kindergarten caretakers in charge of a couple of troublemakers.

By the time they finished bandaging the dimwits' thumbs, their previous talk had lost its relevance, and was instead replaced by a heavy load of work that kept them busy for the rest of the day.

"Alright guys, I think that's enough for today." Clem announced after a few claps. Patrick clapped together with him, wondering if a show was about to start. "Thanks a lot for your help. Here, let me at least give you this, for your trouble."

He searched inside his bag.

"Oh, it's nothing. You don't have to—" Before JimBob could finish, Clem grabbed his hand and put a lukewarm can on it. "Soda? That's an interesting payment. Thanks, Clem!"

"It's not soda, it's root beer." Clem said. After he gave one to Sandy and Patrick, he opened his own and drank it whole in one gulp. "It's our family business! It's quite popular in our hometown. Charleston never told you about it?"

"Charleston rarely tells us anything other than _'freeze, this is a robbery!'_ and _'give me the secret sauce recipe or else!'_" Sandy snorted as she took a sip from her drink. The taste made her gag, and she subtly spat it on the floor.

"He's a man a few words." Clem laughed merrily. He then offered them more cans of root beer.

Sandy refused, claiming she had just remembered she was allergic to it, while JimBob accepted one more only out of courtesy.

On the other hand, Patrick engulfed them the moment he got his hands on them.

"My dear sir, I'm amazed by your outstanding skill in root beer drinking." Clem told Patrick with a slap in the back. "Your ability does resemble that of my kin! Thou could be an honorary member of the Charleston clan!"

"I'm grateful. Your comment brings me much joy, dear friend" Patrick answered.

After their simple talk, they laughed together. JimBob joined them while Sandy watched them with her arms folded and a small smile on her mouth.

"Clem's surely not very bright," she muttered as the three men continued with their rowdy uproar, "but he's just as eccentric as Charleston."

"YOU!"

It was as if Sandy had summoned him by saying his name out loud.

Charleston's voice brought an abrupt end to their small celebration and sucked the fun out of it. JimBob and Sandy immediately felt the change. They gathered together and looked at Charleston as he furiously took heavy, long stomps toward Clem.

His hair and clothes were dripping wet, soaked entirely with heavy seawater.

"Charleston, we were just—" Sandy said.

Charleston ignored her completely, and she didn't dare to say anything else to him. In that moment, the aura he expelled was no less intimidating than that of a charging rhino.

"Cousin! You're back!" Clem received his cousin with open arms and embraced him. "I was about to go and get you! Listen, I can explain this…"

Sandy didn't know if Clem, like Patrick, was blissfully unaware of Charleston's rage, or if he was just too confident that Charleston wouldn't hurt him.

If it was the former, he was a fool; if it was the later, he was a brave fool.

"I want a hug too!" Patrick exclaimed. Sandy and JimBob stopped him before he could join the cousins and pulled him away from them. "No, my hug!"

"Stay back, Patrick." Sandy warned him.

"She's right." JimBob added nervously. "I have a feeling this will not end—"

Their words drowned at the sound of Charleston's fist crashing against Clem's cheek. A golden tooth came flying and landed in front of them.

Patrick stared at it before cowering behind JimBob.

He and Sandy were too appalled to intervene.

"Cousin!" Clem exclaimed as Charleston knocked him to the floor. He sat on his belly and tried to punch him again, but Clem stopped both his fists with his hands. "Take it easy! J-just let me explain!"

"Explain? Explain what?" Charleston exclaimed. His arms trembled as he struggled to break his fists free from Clem's grip. "You put me on a boat and left me to die in the sea! I spent hours under the burning sun screaming for help, but no one could hear nor see me! Do you know for how long I had to swim to make my way back to the shore? Do you know how many times I almost drowned? And if that wasn't enough, I find you ruining my restaurant together with his three idiots! You're a snake, Clem! An idiot, treacherous snake!"

"It wasn't like that at all!" Clem rolled over and managed to get on top of Charleston as he pinned him down to the floor. "I simply put you in the boat so you could have a relaxing day at sea while me and your friends started building the Crumb Basket! I had to do it, otherwise, you would have intervened with our work!"

"They're not my friends!" Charleston rolled and changed their positions once more. "And how the hell did you think I could enjoy being stranded in an old, leaky boat without oars, you idiot? How were you supposed to get me back, or how was I supposed to do that for myself? Did your pea-sized brain never consider that you had doomed me to a watery grave? Because if I hadn't managed to swim back to the beach, that's exactly what would have happened!"

Clem's eyes widened. He opened his mouth, but he said nothing.

"I didn't think of that. If I had known how dangerous it was, I never would have done it." Clem muttered with guilt. "I'm sorry, cousin. I really am."

Charleston's tense features mellowed.

He put his fists down.

For a moment, Sandy was sure that would be the end of their fight, but anger returned to Charleston's face as soon as he looked at her, JimBob and Patrick.

"I forgive you, then. I forgive you for almost stranding me at sea. You're a fool, and you can't always comprehend the consequences of your actions. I know you didn't do it on purpose, so I forgive you." Charleston grabbed Clem by the collar of his shirt and pulled him closer to him. Only Clem could hear his voice. "But I don't forgive you for betraying me. I told you I didn't want anyone to help me building the new Crumb Basket, even less these fools. You knew that, and yet you humiliated me by going to them behind my back. You knew how much this means to me, how much I need to this by myself, how I'm doing this for Karen, and you didn't care. No, Clem…for this, I won't forgive you."

Charleston raised his fist as high as he could.

"Enough!" Sick of so much violence, JimBob tried to intervene even when it went against his better judgement.

Sandy didn't try to stop him. She too was tired of the conflict

"I... I didn't betray you." Clem stuttered before spitting a bit blood from his mouth.

Charleston blinked. "What did you just say?"

"I said…" Clem pulled his leg up and put his foot on Charleston's belly. "I didn't betray you!"

Charleston felt the gigantic pressure of Clem's foot sole against his ribs as he pushed him off him. He landed on his back and scratched the skin off his elbows.

He hissed in pain and tried to stand up before Clem did, but his cousin was faster.

He picked Charleston up with one hand and slammed him against the only finished wall of the Crumb Basket.

"I just wanted to help you." Clem grunted, making sure his voice was low enough so that JimBob and the others wouldn't hear him. "I just wanted to make sure you would finish the Crumb Basket in time so that you and Karen could have happy reunion! But you're so obsessed with building the Crumb Basket all by yourself, even when you know you suck at building things..."

It was the first time Charleston heard Clem talk for so long and with so much eloquence. It was also the first time his words unsettled him.

"You're just like that fry cook." Charleston sneered. "You both think you know how to fix my problems, as if you two understood my relationship with Karen. You don't, and you never will. You're too stupid to do that."

"I know that! " Clem said. "But I also know you, and I can see you aren't doing this for Karen at all. If you were, you wouldn't mind asking others for help, not if it meant that would help you reach your goal. I mean, what's more important here? Finishing the Crumb Basket so that you can receive Karen in a good home the two of you can share, or your silly pride?"

"Shut up!" Charleston tried to punch him, but Clem hit him first.

Stunned by the punch, Charleston stared blankly at Clem as he leaned closer to him and whispered in his ear.

"I know it's your pride." Clem said with pity. "You've always been like this, but I still wanted to help you."

"And when the hell did I ask you for your help, Clem? Do you think I've fallen so low that I would ask someone like you to help me with something that means as much to me as this? Do you think that I would be lost without you? Don't flatter yourself Clem, you're not that indispensable. In fact, you're barely useful at all."

"You clearly wanted some help!" Clem leaned back and let go of Charleston. "Otherwise, you wouldn't have asked our family to come here. Yeah, I always knew you wanted something from us. I'm stupid , but not as much to believe you wanted to see me and our family just out of the kindness of your heart."

"Aren't you full of surprises. Next thing I'll know, you're a hidden genius and your idiot act is just a facade." Charleston laughed cruelly. "But you're wrong, Clem. I never intended to ask you or our family for help. I was going to make you do the work I couldn't, whether you wanted or not. I never intended to ask you or anyone else for anything. Never."

"I knew that too." Clem said. Charleston wondered if he was bluffing just to provoke his anger. "You're not that unpredictable, cousin. That's why I came up with my own plan, that's why I asked JimBob and the others to help _me_ with the Crumb Basket! _I_ asked them for their help, not you. They are helping _me_, they aren't helping you. I'm the one that was pathetic enough to ask for assistance, not you. This has nothing to do with you. Do you understand now, Shelton?"

Charleston clenched his teeth at the sound of his name.

They two cousins stared at each other, both expecting the other to attack first.

Neither did.

"Cousin?" Clem said. His eyes and swollen cheek glistened underneath the orange sky. "I'm-I'm sorry if I meddled in your affairs. I never intended to betray you…Please, believe me when I said I just wanted to do what I thought was best for you and Karen."

"Enough, Clem." Charleston said hastily and without apparent emotion. "Just leave. If really are sorry, then just…leave."

"I—" Clem wiped his nose with his sleeve. Slowly, he picked up his bag full of root beers and hanged it from his shoulder. "Okay, I understand. I'm sorry I lied to you, but I'm not sorry I did this. Still, I understand you're angry with me. Goodbye cousin, sorry for meddling."

Clumsily and nervously, Clem offered his hand to Charleston.

"Get out." Charleston didn't bother to look at him.

At his cousin's cruel remark, Clem retreated his hand closer to his chest. He doubted for a second, and then searched inside his bag.

He put a can of root beer on the floor, just a few meters away from Charleston.

"Goodbye." After his cousin ignored him once more, he decided to leave once and for all. Before he did, Clem glanced at JimBob, Sandy and Patrick. "Goodbye, guys. Thanks for the help."

With that, Clem started walking down the street.

Patrick tried to go after him, but Sandy stopped him.

Clem eventually disappeared from their sight, and exited their lives as suddenly as he had entered them.

"We should go." Sandy said as she consoled a crying Patrick. "Charleston needs to be alone."

"Yeah" JimBob agreed. Before he left, he thought of saying something to Charleston, but realized there was nothing left to say.

The trio of friends left, all immersed in a silence unnatural for them

Once he was on his own, Charleston turned around and stared at the Crumb Basket. He kept on looking at it as he thought of Clem and Karen.

He did so until nightfall came and stars started to adorn the sky.


	15. Run, Gary, run!

**Thanks to Dreamer1920 for the review and to everyone for reading :)**

* * *

Gary was a good cat, but he had a secret nobody knew about.

He liked to steal things and hide them in his secret lair of treasures.

Of course, not even his beloved owner JimBob was safe of the cat's quirky habits.

It was Gary who was behind the mystery of the disappearance of JimBob's favorite tie and a pair of his limited-edition Goofy Goober sunglasses. JimBob and Patrick never suspected the cat, and after a rigorous investigation led by Patrick Man himself, they blamed the whole thing on a mischievous yet noble ghost that had pulled an innocent prank on them.

With that, the case had been officially closed, and Gary had walked out free and unpunished once again.

Why Gary did this was something he didn't truly understand.

After all, he was a cat.

A rather intelligent and crafty cat, but in the end, just a cat, and a proud one too.

Though affectionate and cuddly, he was proud enough to still remember that moons ago, one of his schemes had gone awry.

The incident was fresh in Gary's mind.

He had been out in one of his very early morning strolls when he found a very peculiar toy outside the strange, wooden castle where he always found his first daily breakfast waiting for him in the trash cans.

He would eat the weird crumbs first, and then go back home and eat the delicious food JimBob had left for him.

Why Gary ate two breakfasts when one was enough to satisfy his hunger was something he didn't understand either, though maybe his early days as an lonely kitten surviving in the streets with nothing more to eat other than the Crumb Basket plentiful leftovers had something to do with it.

Maybe.

Gary wasn't sure.

After all, he was just a cat.

The point was that particular day hadn't turned out too good for Gary.

After finding the abandoned toy, Gary had taken it with him behind a wall of bushes and played with it with for a long while. The toy was hard to chew and difficult to scratch, but its sturdiness had a certain appeal that the plushies JimBob bought for Gary lacked.

After hours of playing and a long nap, Gary had decided to go to his treasure lair and store his newest acquisition together with the rest of his stolen treasures.

For a normal human being, Gary's lair was nothing more than a tunnel the cat had excavated right below the Crumb Basket. It was small enough to remain unnoticed ,but also wide enough for Gary to slide in without much difficulty.

Sadly for Gary, he had succumbed to the temptation of playing with the toy just a little while longer before storing it.

That had been his worst mistake, because seconds later, the cyclops that lived inside the wooden castle had returned. He had chased Gary down, and after a brief struggle, he succeeded in stealing the toy from Gary.

Gary had tried to fight back, but the cyclops was too intimidating and mean, and Gary had been left with no choice but to accept defeat and run away to the safe, comforting arms of his owner.

The battle had been lost, but the war continued, and Gary wasn't going to give up so easily. He had returned to the Crumb Basket the next day to reclaim they toy that was rightfully his and to eat his crumbs for breakfast, only to discover the cyclops had torn his wooden castle apart.

Gary immediately forgot about his new toy and food. His feline mind focused in just one thing.

His beloved treasure lair.

The cyclops had made it inaccessible with the ruins of his destroyed wooden castle. He also seemed dead set on not letting Gary even attempt to enter or get close to it, as every time the cat tried to approach it, he scared him away by waving a hammer around and roaring angry threats at Gary.

Gary made many more attempts, but the cyclops grew considerable grouchier and more aggressive each day, until he actually slammed his hammer just a few inches away from Gary's paws. It was only then that Gary understood the cyclops could and would hurt him for real if he insisted in his foolish quest of reaching the treasure lair.

With a broken heart and a bruised ego, Gary had been left with no choice but to accept that his free crumbs for breakfast, his lair of treasures and his new toy were lost to him, at least until the cyclops calmed down or his wooden castle was again rebuilt.

Or so Gary had thought.

Two of those things were still lost to him, but he had gotten one of them back.

It just happened.

Gary didn't expect to find his newest toy in Patrick's trailer during one of his weekly visits to the house of the big yet friendly giant JimBob was so fond of.

While Patrick slept in the couch in front of the T.V with an opened bag of chips on his lap, Gary found the sturdy toy lying on his bed, right where the pillow should have been.

But Gary was a cat, and he didn't care about Patrick's strange way of adorning his bed. He simply sniffed the toy and rubbed his cheek against it to reclaim it as his own again. He then picked it up with his mouth and left Patrick's trailer without making a sound.

Victory.

Well, not totally. For Gary, his deed wouldn't be complete until the toy was safe inside his treasure lair.

Why not make one more attempt? Gary couldn't be afraid of the cyclops forever, no matter how scary and aggressive he had become!

Gary's ears flickered.

That was a brilliant idea, and it made perfect sense for him.

After all, he was just a cat.

With his tail up and with a confident, graceful walk, Gary made his way to the cyclop's wooden castle.

He did so with a laid-back attitude until he caught a scent similar to that of the cyclops. He quickened his pace and left whatever that new creature was behind.

"Would you look at that!" Clem exclaimed as he watched the cat running down the street. "A cat with an electric pillow identical to Patrick's! If that cat can afford one, then maybe I can too. Say mister Patchy, when I'm getting paid?"

"Getting paid? What are you talking about?" Patchy told him as he watered his garden flowers. "I never hired you. I agreed to let you stay in my house for a few days and, in exchange, you'll help me with the chores around the house, remember?"

"Oh, right!" Clem nodded as he happily went back to mowing the lawn. "Sorry, I'm easily distracted."

"Is that how he calls it?"

"Potty, don't be rude! He's being a lot more useful than you, you idle bird! You never help around the house."

"What did you expect? After all, I'm just a parrot." Potty laughed and dodged Patchy's hand. He then flew to the highest spot in the roof. He made himself comfortable and enjoyed the morning view.

He could see Gary the cat from the distance. "I wonder if Patchy knows Gary's the one who stole his favorite eye-patch. Oh well, if he doesn't, I'm not going to squeal. An animal doesn't betray another animal, that's the code! No wonder I'm so loyal to Patchy, and to that fool Clem too."

Potty ruffled his feathers and laughed. He then became ready to take a nap as the shinning, warm sun covered him with its rays.

* * *

It was done.

Charleston looked at the new version of the Crumb Basket.

It was finally finished. He had worked on it all by himself ever since his fight with Clem.

That had been four days ago.

"I did it." His laughter started almost like a cry of disbelief before it slowly turned into a confident, maniac cackle. "I did it! It was all me, no one else!" He turned around with his arms wide open. "Gaze upon my creation, you lowly peasants! Gaze and admire the work of Charleston!"

The few people on the sidewalk that gave Charleston some of their attention remained unimpressed. After a while, a few of them clapped and whispered some fainthearted _'hoorays'_.

"What is this guy talking about, Jenny?" a teen asked her friend as Charleston rejoiced in whatever little recognition the others gave him.

"I don't know, I think he is a street performer."

"Ah, I see. Let's play along!"

"Yeah!"

With that, the two friends cheered at Charleston with more energy and excitement. "And what is that you have built, my lord? Is that a sculpture that symbolizes the ugliness of the world?"

"Please, it's obviously a piece of contemporary art." Added Bobby Bass with a conceited voice. "It's so ugly because it's trying to convey that all art is beautiful regardless of how the beholders may perceive it."

"Wow."

"That's deep."

"What an artist."

The small multitude applauded Bobby Bass' insight and Charleston's work. Some were so moved that they shed a couple of tears. One of them, a wealthy gentleman, even offered Charleston a considerable amount of money for his art, but Charleston rejected the offer and silenced them with an offended, angered scream.

"It's not a sculpture or a piece of art, you uncultured dunces!" Charleston's couldn't believe the magnitude of the stupidity he was witnessing. "Are you so blind that you can't recognize the beauty that is the new Crumb Basket? Seriously, what the hell is wrong with all of you?!"

"The Crumb Bakset?" the question spread like powder among his audience. "What the hell is a Crum Basket?"

"You know, that godawful restaurant that's always empty." Said the one of the teens from before. "Totally not cool."

"Wait, are you saying this…thing is that horrible restaurant? I retreat my buying offer immediately!" the wealthy gentleman urged.

"Of course this is the Crumb Basket, and I'm the owner!" Charleston exclaimed. "I'm Charleston! Don't any of you recognize me?"

"Now that you mention it…no." Bobby Bass shrugged. "Anyway, I'm out of here. I'm not wasting any more of my precious time in the re-opening of a zero-star restaurant! See you later, loser."

Bobby Bass laughed. He was the first of the small multitude to walk away.

Soon, the rest began to do the same.

"For a moment there, I was having fun." One of the teens lamented.

"Yeah, no kidding. Well, it was good while it lasted." Her friend said. "Come on, let's get to the beach. The others are waiting."

Before Charleston knew it, his audience was gone, and he was left alone with the new, improved version of the Crumb Basket he had built all on his own.

"That's it, walk away, you scum!" Charleston spat at them. "None of you have the intelligence and refitment necessary to appreciate the beauty that is the new Crumb Basket. Who could look at it and think it's not the greatest thing in this whole damned town?"

Charleston turned and looked at his restaurant again. Just as he finished speaking, the main door fell flat to the floor and a passing seagull painted the roof with its droppings.

Charleston felt daunted by the sight of his restaurant. He tried to silence his fears by quickly running toward the fallen door and putting it back in its place.

"That's okay. It just needs the final touches." He took a few steps back and looked again at the Crumb Basket, hoping to find the beauty in it; but the more he looked at it, the more its imperfections came to light.

The nails, crudely hammered into the planks, outstood from them like small, growing hairs.

The planks were firmly but unevenly put together, which gave the restaurant the appearance that it would fall apart with the faintest blow of wind.

The windows were cracked.

The roof was dirty and it creaked more than an unoiled machine.

The chimney—

"Dammit!" Charleston kicked the door in frustration. It fell again on the opposite side, revealing the restaurant's interior.

It was perhaps more hideous than the outside.

Bleak, with flickering lights and unadorned walls. The floor was dusty, the tables were choppy and the chairs were old.

The old Crumb Basket was a miracle of architecture compared to whatever monstrosity Charleston had built in the last few days.

He didn't dare too look at it for long, even less enter it.

If he couldn't, how could he expect Karen to do so when he met her tomorrow.

"Tomorrow." The thought hit him like a train. In the last few days, he had been so focused on finishing building the Crumb Basket that his reunion with Karen had become a distant idea he could easily put on the back of his mind and ignore. Now that there was nothing else for him to do, it had flourished with all its strength and power.

Overtaken by emotion, Charleston walked closer to the worst version possible of he Crumb Basket, the one he had built all by himself, and leaned his back against the front wall.

"Well, this is it. I have no time to improve this mess now, and even if I did, I don't think I would make a better job. Sorry Karen, but it seems this the best I can do." He chuckled bitterly as he slid down to the floor and hid his face behind one of his hands. "What was I thinking? What did I think I could achieve? What a joke."

He stayed like that, unaware that someone watched him behind from across the street.

"Look at him." Mr. Slabs said with a touch of cruelty and satisfaction. "It would be funny if it wasn't also kind of sad…Oh, who am I kidding, it's hilarious!"

He put his hands on his hips and laughed with all the power of his lungs. Manward rolled his eyes and did his best to ignore his loud boss.

As for JimBob, he sighed and continued working while trying not to think about Charleston too much.

"What a loser." Mr. Slabs wiped a tear off his eye and glared at Charleston with suspicious eyes.

_You're so pathetic that you're making me doubt whether this while situation with your wife is real or fake, Charleston. You're one hell of an actor when you want to, but I know better than to believe your lies. But if you're not faking it, if this somehow really isn't part of one of your schemes to steal my recipe…then tough luck, my friend. Don't take it too hard, some people are just not destined to be successful, not in love, not in business, not in talent, not in family, not in anything. _

Mr. Slabs took a deep breath and looked at Pearl, sitting on a table as she looked out the window. He then looked at his restaurant.

He became full of relief and pride.

_I have a beautiful, talented daughter, a successful restaurant, loyal employees and good friends. Sure, my love life is a mess, but the rest is perfect. With you Charleston, nothing is perfect, or at least somewhat good. I'm glad I'm different, I'm glad I'm not you._

Mr. Slabs was about to get back into his office when Pearl said something that made his face lose all its color.

"Don't laugh at Mr. Charleston, dad. He's just doing his best for the woman he loves."

Unlike him, Pearl spoke without a trace of disdain in her voice.

Her words and sentiment were pure and honest.

That's why they made Mr. Slabs ears tingle and caused his heart to sink to his feet.

"Pearl, me only daughter. Don't waste your good feelings on someone like Charleston. Remember what I told you, he's just pretending." Mr. Slabs patted Pearl's head softly. "He just wants us to pity him so that he can manipulate us into getting his hands on the secret sauce recipe. I know how his evil mind works."

"I'm not sure about that. Look at him! He worked so hard rebuilding his restaurant, and Larry and JimBob told me how serious he was about becoming a better person for his wife…I don't know, it just seems like a lot of work and effort to go through for it to be a lie."

"Did they now?" Mr. Slabs twitched his mouth. "Listen Pearl, Larry and JimBob are good people, but they follow their hearts more than their minds. It's natural for them to be deceived so easily, but you have to be—"

"We should help him. I want to help him."

A small silence divided father and daughter.

"No, Pearl." Mr. Slabs stated quietly but firmly.

"But dad, can't you see? He's doing all this for his wife! How can you look at him and just laugh? That's too cruel."

"Life is cruel, not me." Mr. Slabs joked, hoping it would ease the tension between them.

"He's doing this for love!" Pearl stood up. "For me, there's nothing more beautiful than that."

"Love?" Mr. Slabs snorted. "You're still young, Pearl. One day, you'll understand that love is not like the romances you read in your novels or like your silly relationships you've had with your boyfriends. Trust me, when you grow up, you'll realize that love is only an illusion."

"Maybe it is for you." Pearl frowned and put her purse on her shoulder. "But you shouldn't mock others for thinking otherwise. That's not cool, dad. Not cool at all."

"Pearl—"

"I have to go now. My friends are expecting me at the beach." Pearl went to the entrance and exited the Trusty Slab before her father had the chance to stop her. "I'll see you later."

"Pearl, darling! Wait, let me explain!" But Pearl had already left. A renewed surge of rage for Charleston emerged from Mr. Slabs gut and spread to his heart. "Great, now that loser has caused me daughter to get angry with me…and just the day before her presentation at the Beach Palooza! Curse you, Charleston!"

"Actually, she got mad because of how coldhearted you are. As a fellow cynic, I approve your attitude, but it's obvious a sentimental teenager like your daughter wouldn't. It's common sense, Mr. Slabs."

"Be quite and get back to work, Manward! You're my cashier, not my therapist." Mr. Slabs snapped at him.

"I was just saying." Manward said before he continued reading his newspaper. "Thank goodness I never had kids. They're too much trouble."

"I heard that!" Mr. Slabs exclaimed.

"Well, it's true, isn't it?"

As annoying as Manward was acting at that moment, Mr. Slabs couldn't find the energy to get angry at him. His thoughts were too focused on Pearl and Charleston.

He looked at Charleston again. He hadn't moved in the slightest.

_Are you really doing all this because you love your wife, Charleston? _Mr. Slabs thought without smiling. _Then you're even a bigger fool than I thought._

He then returned to his office in silence and closed the door behind him, wondering from where his daughter had gotten her romantic, sentimental streak.

It hadn't been from him.

That was for sure.

* * *

Pearl received a call from his friends the moment she exited the Trusty Slab. She sat down next to the entrance and hugged her knees.

She waited for her phone to stop ringing before focusing again on Charleston. Despite the rivalry between him and his father, Pearl had never hated him.

She wouldn't say she liked him, as he wasn't exactly an easy person to get along with, but she had always believed her father was too harsh with Charleston. Sometimes, as it had happened just a few minutes ago, he was downright cruel.

However, Pearl had only began to feel sorry for Charleston after JimBob and Larry had mentioned to her how anxious and desperate he was to impress his wife once they finally got to see each other face to face for the first time during the Beach Palooza.

"Long distance lovers, decided to finally meet each other no matter what…" Pearl sighed and put her hands above her heart, giggling softly as she imagined herself in the same situation. "It's so romantic, so beautiful. If it doesn't turn out well, I swear I'm going to cry…I don't care what my father says or thinks, love is real and it's always worth fighting for! I can't just stay here and do nothing; I'd never forgive myself!"

Pearl stood up with newfound motivation. "But what can I do? I can't approach Mr. Charleston and tell him I want to help him. If dad saw me talking to him, he'd probably ground me for life and he'd send Mr. Charleston to the hospital. Besides, JimBob said Mr. Charleston is too proud to accept any kind of help, and that he can get very aggressive about it…something about beating his own cousin? Yeah, I'm not taking my chances."

Pearl ignored her cell phone again. Her mind was too busy coming up with a possible plan.

"Maybe if…no, that won't work. I know! I should…nah, that's too stupid."

She was distracted from her thoughts at the sensation of something soft against her ankles.

She looked down and discovered a cat rubbing his cheeks against her and purring.

"Hey, I know you!" Pearl smiled as she picked up the animal. "You're JimBob's pet! Gary, isn't it? Wait, what's that in your mouth?" Pearl recognized the headphones instantly. "Those belong to Mr. Charleston. I know he's a bit mean, but you can just steal them from him. Come now, give them to me."

She expected the cat to show no resistance. Instead, Gary tightened his jaws and flattened his ears. When Pearl insisted, he even gave her a warning meow that came from his throat.

"You're a little stinker, ain't you?" Pearl said as she put the cat down. "Look, you have to give those back to Mr. Charleston sooner and later. It would be best for you to give them back now…I don't want him to chase you around like a maniac all around town—"

The idea materialized in Pearl's mind instantly.

"That's it!" She snapped her fingers. She looked down at Gary, who stared at her with curiosity. Her heart felt a twinge of guilt. She patted him on the head and scratched him behind the ears. "I'm sorry, little fellow. I have to do this, for the sake of love!"

She carried Gary again until they were on the other side of the street, just in front of the Crumb Basket.

Charleston didn't look at them or noticed their presence.

"Run as fast as you can, okay?" Pearl said to Gary as she put him back on the floor. "I'm counting on you."

Gary began to walk toward the Crumb Basket with his tail up. He was so cute that Pearl almost called off her plan.

"I'm the worst." She whispered as she waited for Gary to get closer to Charleston. "But what I do, I do for love."

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath to calm herself before she shouted with all the air in her lungs.

"Mr. Charleston! That cat stole your headphones! Hurry, he's getting away!"

Gary turned around so quickly that the headphones almost fell from his mouth. Pear knew he would start running like crazy once Charleston began to chase him.

The cat was ready to play his role, but it was Charleston who disappointed Pearl. He remained in the same position as before.

It was then Pearl realized he had fallen asleep.

"Are you serious?" Pearl tried to get closer to him and wake him up however she could. She was ready to kick him if she had to. Her stomps and her exuding frustration alerted Gary, who started to take a few steps back.

Pear froze where she stood. She couldn't allow Gary to run away, not until Charleston saw him.

"Come on, wake up!" She hissed at Charleston. Gary started to move faster. His collar jingled when, a second later, he started to run. "Wait, no!"

Desperate, Pearl screamed again.

Her mind gave her the words that she subconsciously knew were the only ones that would wake Charleston up even from the deepest slumber.

"Mr. Charleston, that cat has the secret sauce recipe! Hurry, get it before he escapes!"

It worked like a charm.

"Secret sauce recipe…" Charleston muttered as he finally took his hands off his face. With his only eye, he managed to catch a quick glance of the cat as it dashed down the street. He sprang up. More than awake, he looked as if he was caught in a trance. "Secret sauce recipe!"

He ran after Gary without paying any attention to Pearl.

"Great!" Pearl exclaimed. "Now, it's time for my plan's second phase…"

She put on a concerned expression on her face before rushing toward the Trusty Slab. She slammed the door open, scaring the life out of the costumers and making Manward fall from his chair together with his newspaper.

She ran toward her father's office and entered it without knocking. "DAD!"

"What?!" Mr. Slabs threw his book up in the air. His copy of _How to deal with teenagers, Vol.1_ fell and hit him in the head, but his surprise numbed the pain. "Pearl, what is it?!"

"It's Charleston! He has the secret sauce recipe! Hurry, he's getting away!"

"The recipe? But how did he…?"

"Run, dad!"

"Okay!"

Mr. Slabs got out of his office at a speed few men of his age could reach.

Manward, who had just gotten back on his chair, fell again when Mr. Slabs exited the Trusty Slab as if he was an athlete determined to win the marathon.

"Charleston!" Mr. Slabs screamed when he saw his nemesis running down the street. "I knew you had something up your sleeve! Get back here, you petty criminal!"

"The recipe!" Charleston huffed as he continued to chase Gary. "Give me the recipe, you stupid, dumb animal!"

Gary ran so fast he looked like a mini cheetah hunting down a galloping gazelle. Only he wasn't the hunter this time, he was the one being hunted, by none other than the cyclops from the wooden castle and the ogre from the greasy-smelling palace where his owner JimBob worked.

"That should keep them busy for a while." Pearl said with satisfaction. Her phone rang again. This time, she answered. "Hey, Jenny! I know, I'm the worst for not answering before, but I was busy with something. And let me tell you, it's something good! Listen, I need you and the rest of the girls to get over to the Crumb Basket now…yeah, I know that place sucks, but soon, it won't anymore, not after we are done with it. We'll transform that hideous, boring dump into the coolest place in town! That's right, girl!" Pearl took out a pair of sunglasses from her purse and put them on. "It's makeover time!"

* * *

Karen opened her eyes at the soft knocking coming from the other side of the door of her cabin.

Well, Frenchy's cabin.

He had allowed her to stay there ever since she had come aboard his submarine. It was a small but comfortable place that had everything she needed to feel welcome and at ease.

A bed, a small counter, and even a small bathroom with a shower, equipped with a shampoo and a bar of soap made out of kelp, what else.

"The lady must always have the best room." Frenchy had told her after Karen had insisted he didn't need to be so cordial with her. "That's the gentleman's code! Don't worry, I'll sleep on the couch outside. I won't disturb you, perhaps only in the mornings, when I need to use to bathroom to shower and to…you know, answer the call of nature."

"Thank you for explaining that to me, I never would have guessed." Karen had told him sarcastically.

It was difficult to imagine they had once been able to joke around so casually. After their small argument four days ago, they hadn't spoken to each other at all, mostly because Karen had opted to recluse herself inside the cabin.

She didn't even need to get out to get her dinner or breakfast, as Frenchy always left a can of kelp for her right in front of her door.

Their only encounters were in the morning, when Frenchy would ask her if he could come in and use the bathroom for a moment.

Karen would say _'yes'_, and Frenchy would answer with _'merci'_.

They would say nothing more to each other for the rest of the day.

It was a small routine Karen despised not only because of how awkward it was, but also because it reminded her of how she had acted, of what Frenchy had said and of how their friendship was officially over.

_It's not so bad._ Karen thought as she opened the door. _In retrospect, it was inevitable. Might as well learn from this and see it as a simulation in case Charleston rejects me. _

Frenchy's helmet reflected the dim light of the submarine. It was the first thing Karen saw after she opened the door.

"We've arrived, Karen."

"Yes." Karen replied automatically. Her brain slowly realized Frenchy wasn't saying his usual lines. "Wait, what?"

"We're here. Get your things ready." Frenchy said politely but hastily. "A friend will come with a boat to take you to the shore in an hour. Our _voyage _together has officially come to an end."

"I see." Karen replied. "I better get started then. Thank you."

"Of course. I'll leave you to it." Frenchy cleared his throat. "Karen?"

"What?"

"It was good traveling with you."

Karen snorted softly.

_Yeah, right…. because I'm such a pleasant person to be around. I bet you had the time of your life, Frenchy, you kindhearted bastard._

"Okay." Karen smiled quickly. "I'll be out soon."

With that, she closed the door.

She sat down on the bed and allowed reality to settle in.

"I'm here." Karen muttered. "I'm really here…"

She felt dizzy. A part of her wished it was all a dream and that she would soon wake up in bed.

But it was real, and her reunion with Charleston was inevitable.

"I wish I wasn't here." She whispered after swallowing the lump in her throat. "I really wish I wasn't here right now."


	16. Different visions of love colide

**_Hey there! Thanks to everyone for reading and to Dreamer1920 for the review!_**

* * *

What caught her attention the most was the enormous stage adorned with lights and the big Ferris wheel. The dozens of stands were less impressive, but they still played a key role in transforming the beach into a cheap imitation of a traveling carnival.

Karen gazed at the sight with reserve.

Carnivals were fun, if you liked to engulf junk food like a glutton only to throw it up while in the middle of a ride, or if you enjoyed wasting your money in rigged games that only awarded you with a dusty, silly stuffed toy.

Sadly for Karen, that wasn't her idea of fun.

"A Beach Palooza…what a drag. Why couldn't it be a Beach Formal Dinner or a fishing contest instead?" Karen said as she pressed her bag's handle closer to her chest. "It would be beyond boring, but at least I wouldn't have to deal with all that carnivalesque crap."

Frenchy was standing next to her as they waited on top of the submarine's hull for the man that would take Karen to the beach. Why Frenchy hadn't gotten them closer to shore was something only he knew and understood.

Karen gave him a swift glance from the corner of her eye.

He had been as quiet and still as a rock ever since they had exited the submarine. He hadn't even looked at her. His whole attention was devoted to keeping an eye on the shore as he held a pair of binoculars against the glass of his helmet.

Karen waited for him to say something, but she was starting to lose hope.

Frenchy was either too busy to listen to her ramblings or he simply had nothing left to say to her.

The more she thought about it, the more she became convinced the second option was the most plausible.

If that was the case, then her attempts to have one last friendly conversation with him before they parted ways, no matter how small or trivial it would be, were beyond pathetic.

She casted the thought away from her mind and immediately searched for more practical answers.

Maybe she was just trying to fill the awkward silence with something else other than the sizzling whisper of the sea and the cries of the seagulls flying above them.

No, that wasn't true. What she was really trying to achieve was to part on decent terms with Frenchy.

_Alright, damn brain! I admit it, that's what I want, but it's not so bad, is it?_

She looked at Frenchy again. He hadn't moved at all_._

_But how can I do that when he's not listening to me? He's not even looking at me…Please, just look at me. Oh Frenchy, you really won't even look at me one last time? _

Karen chuckled bitterly to herself.

_Of course you won't, and_ _I don't blame you! After all, I already know you what you think of me._

"Ah, here he comes." Frenchy announced. He put down the binoculars and pointed to a man slowly departing from the shore on a boat. "I'm sorry it took so long, Karen. He'll be here soon."

Karen recoiled when Frenchy's helmet turned to look at her. She looked away from his concealed eyes and turned her back on him.

"Oh." She said as she pretended to be too busy admiring the beautiful blueness of the sea. "That's nice."

"_Oui_."

"Just perfect."

"Indeed."

"So I guess you're not coming to the beach, after all? That's odd, you were so exicted about seeing your friends and this whole festival thing."

"I received a message from my boss this morning. He needs me somewhere else as soon as possible."

"I see. Too bad."

"Tell me about it."

_Okay, chat's over, now stop looking at me. Seriously, look away now. You have three seconds. Three, two, one…_

Karen could feel the weight of Frenchy's eyes resting on her. They were heavy as anchors.

_Seriously, stop it! If you don't, I swear I'm going to jump and swim all the way to the beach on my own. Sure, the weight from my wet bag may pull me down into the ocean and I'll sink like a viking ship after its funeral, but I'll risk it! Don't look at me… I can't deal with it! Not when I know what you really think of me._

She heard the faint noise of Frenchy's metallic boots rubbing against the hull.

Karen prepared to dive into the water and swim as fast to the shore as if she was escaping from a shark, but Frenchy stopped her by putting one of his hands on her shoulder.

He removed it just as quickly.

Karen mustered her courage and turned around to face him. She could see her face reflected on his shinny helmet.

"I just—" Frenchy held her hands so carefully and tenderly that the touch of his rough, warm gloves was almost imperceptible. "It saddens me we're not departing on better terms, but I'm glad I met you, Karen. Before you leave, please know how sorry I am for what I said and for how I said it. You're a little difficult to deal with, that is true; you're a bit rude and harsh, but you're not horrible…not at all."

"What?" Karen said with a thread of voice. "What did you just say?"

"When I saw so many of my photos ruined and scattered all over the floor… I got carried away." Frenchy followed his words with a heavy sigh. "I'm sorry."

Karen's knees trembled. She felt so light that she feared a passing blow of the ocean's wind would be enough to take her away with it.

"You mean…that when you called me horrible, you were talking about my manners and my behavior?"

"_Oui_." Frenchy nodded without pride. "I was angry. I wasn't trying to hurt you."

"You weren't talking about my appearance?"

"What?" He tilted his head. "I don't understand."

"Oh, Frenchy…" Karen slid her hands away from Frenchy's fingers and put them on both sides of his helmet. "You're really a good man, and maybe that's why I never understood you. I'm sorry too, for all the bitter moments I put you through, you deserved none of that. Thank you for being so kind, especially with someone like—"

Karen swallowed and let go of Frenchy. She feared she would ruin the moment if she said more.

Her wish had been granted. She and Frenchy would part on decent terms.

That was all that mattered, the rest would be up to her to deal with.

"Take care, okay?" Karen smiled at him. "I too am glad I got to meet you."

"Karen, wait." Frenchy's voice drowned under the loud shout that came from the submarine's side.

"Hey Frenchy! Long time no see!" Said the man from the boat. Karen's cheeks turned pink when she laid her eyes on him. He bowed his head to greet her. "Hello there, lady! I'm here to take you to the beach. Oh, and don't be afraid! This boat may be old and leaky, but it'll take us home safely… I think. I hope."

_"__Bonjour_, Larry." Frenchy only acknowledge the other man with a quick wave of his hand. "She'll join you soon. Give us a minute, okay? We're just saying goodbye to each other."

Far from being offend, the muscular man on the boat agreed and made a circle with his thumb and index finger. He then stretched his arms and put them behind his head to enjoy a brief bath of sunlight.

Karen was eager to join him. It wasn't because she found him attractive or anything.

_Okay, maybe I do, but just a bit. Damn hormones!_

She only stopped scolding herself when Frenchy's words reached her ears.

"So you think so too?"

It was seldom that Karen got taken off guard. She didn't expect Frenchy to be one of the few people that would accomplish such feat.

"What?" She chuckled heartily despite her confusion. "Where did that come from? I think the sun is making you rave. Maybe you should go inside and get some rest, my friend."

"Your appearance." Frenchy continued. "Is it a curse for you too?"

A stab in the heart wouldn't have hurt more. It would have been messier and more difficult to clean, but more painful? Karen doubted it.

"It is." Her eyes were dry and her heartbeat was peaceful. "But it's different. Jacques, you may have your brother's face, but your heart raises you above it. You're outside doesn't match your inside, but in my case, it does. My face reflects exactly who am I inside."

Karen took a deep breath before continuing, both to calm herlself and to keep going before she regreted speaking with her heart and not her mind.

"I think that's why I wanted to change so badly. If my exterior is beyond salvation, I wanted my interior to make up for it. I tried, but I failed, because unlike you, my heart is rotten and bitter, and nothing graceful or good can come out of it naturally. When I try, it always comes out as forced, awkward and fake. I'm sour, I'm aggressive, I'm a cheap gift in an ugly wrapping. Why then, would Charleston put up with his obnoxious, hateful, nagging wife when she's not even pleasant to look at? At least in his imagination, he can picture me as he wishes. There, I can be beautiful, maybe that's the only reason our marriage has even lasted this long in the first place; but once he sees me, he won't be able to do that anymore. He'll realize I'm just not worth the trouble; that's the only way this whole plan of ours can end."

"I think none of that of you." Frenchy stated. "And I'm sure Charleston won't either, no matter how convinced of it you are."

"You don't know that." Karen said sternly but without anger. "You don't know for sure."

"And what makes you think you do?"

"It's the only logical option, the rest is nothing but wishful thinking. Every time I dare to think otherwise, I feel like a silly girl wishing upon a shooting star to make her dream come true. Besides, it wouldn't be the first time a man—"

"But he's not some man." Frenchy continued. "He's your husband, Karen. Look, I know Charleston, and he has his fair share of flaws. He's prideful, arrogant and impulsive, just to name a few, but I don't picture him reacting the way you imagine. Not with you, never with you. He loves you; I don't know much about the kind of love the two of you share, but I know that it's not so fickle for it to fall apart just because of something as trivial as this!

"Jacques."

Before she could continue, Frenchy grabbed his helmet with both hands and pulled it up. It came off without resistance.

Karen gasped. For a moment, it felt as if she had just seen Frenchy beheading himself. It was easy to forget his helmet was not his face, and that underneath laid the head of a normal man with normal features.

Features she found herself exploring carefully with attentive eyes.

He wasn't as she had imagined him to be at all.

Her mind had occasionally doodled small snippets of what she thought he could look like underneath his helmet. Her favorite one was the one that pictured him like a clean-shaven sailor with tanned skin and dark eyes to match his raven hair.

Instead, Frenchy's skin was pale almost to the point of being completely milky white, and his hair was of a soft shade of grey; his goatee adorning his chin was messy and somewhat spiky, like the threads of an old and unkept broom. It made him look older than he really was, but at the same time, it also gave him the aura of wisdom and solemnity of a reclusive genius.

"I was wrong." It was weird to listen to his voice free of the echo caused by the helmet. Without it, it sounded cleaner and higher. He touched his face with a hand and let go of his helmet. "Our faces are not a curse, especially not yours. Our faces are just that…faces! They're part of who we are, but they're not all that we are. The people that care about us are bound to realize that and accept us, not out of pity or resignation, but because they can see beyond it. Maybe it's time we started to do the same. I know it's easier said than done, but we can at least try, can't we?"

Karen stared at him. Frenchy's amber eyes at times seemed orange and even red when the light of the sun touched them.

_He's not at all as I had imagined him to be, but I'm not disappointed in the slightest. He's still the silly, kind man that goes by the nickname of Frenchy. He is who he is, and that's fine.  
_

"That we can try. I promise you I will." Karen said. Slowly, she leaned closer to him and kissed him in the cheek. "Goodbye, my friend. Thank you for everything."

Frenchy grabbed one of her hands and gently lifted it closer to his lips. The short hairs of his goatee tickled her fingers.

_It's weird. Usually, I would have told you to save your sugary speech for someone who cared_.

Karen thought as Frenchy finished the kiss. The smile he gave her caused Karen's heart to skip a beat.

_But right now, I believe that what you say is true. It's not stupid or immature…it's true. I'm not a good person, but maybe I don't need to be one to see how honest your feelings are. Right now, that's more than enough for me to believe in what you say._

"Take care, okay?" Karen said with a small smile. "And for heaven's sake, stop dancing in the water with schools of puffer fish. I don't want to search all over the ocean for your poisoned butt and drag you all the way to a hospital."

"Duly noted." Frenchy said after a small chuckle. He let go of her hand as they both stared into each other's eyes one last time. "_Au revoir, mon cher ami_. I wish you and Charleston nothing but luck and happiness."

* * *

It was a dead end for the cat. The crafty, nimble creature had trapped himself in an alley with a high fence blocking the other side.

Charleston didn't know for how long he had been chasing the little demon, but it had passed enough time for his legs to burn and tremble as if they were sticks of bread about to snap in half.

He also could have sworn that Slabs had been chasing after them. If he really had, he had been left behind somewhere along the way of their tricky chase full of house yards, stairs, jumps over the roof of buildings and not to mention a lot of street crossing while the traffic light was still red.

Charleston knew his body would be mad at him in the morning for his harsh treatment of it, but he didn't care. Everything that mattered was that the secret recipe would finally be his.

All he needed to do was to catch that damned cat once and for all.

"Give it to me, you flea-infested critter." Charleston said.

The cat ignored him. Judging by the heavy movements of his back and belly, Charleston could tell the animal was just as exhausted as him.

"Do you think I'm going to take pity on you?" Charleston said as he approached the cat with firm steps. "Do you think I have forgotten how it was you the one responsible for the disappearance of the headphones Karen gave to me? What you did was unforgivable, and nothing you do can make amends for it…but I think giving me the secret sauce recipe would be a nice to start your way to redemption, stupid cat! Now give it to me, you owe me that much!"

The cat turned around and defied him with a murderous glare and a long hiss. The hairs on his curved back were standing up like tiny needles.

Charleston was paralyzed. Partly because of the extreme change in the cat from adorable house pet into murderous wild animal; but what really froze him where he stood was the sight of the object the animal held in his muzzle.

Disappointment hit Charleston in the stomach.

"My headphones." He fell to his knees after taking only one more step forward. He raised his head up and continued to look at the cat. "But you…the secret sauce recipe. Where is the secret cause recipe? How can this be?"

Charleston laughed at himself. He had been an idiot for believing the words of Slabs' daughter so easily. She had pulled a prank on him, and he had fallen for it faster than a mature apple falls from its branch.

"Why? Why did I think this was true? The girl is just as mean-spirited as her father. Teenagers can truly be the most heartless creatures on Earth when they want to. And now, the secret sauce recipe is lost to me yet once again…Just another failure to add to my endless list." Charleston remained on his knees and straightened his back. The cat slowly started to go back to his natural, relaxed state; he continue to look at Charleston with eerie caution, but it was motivated more out of curiosity than aggression. His headphones were still trapped between his jaws.

_The secret sauce recipe._

Charleston's disappointment transformed into shame.

_Really? The secret sauce recipe? I have my beloved headphones back. I have right in front of me the only part of Karen I'll be able to keep if everything else goes wrong tomorrow…and all I can think about is the secret sauce recipe? Instead of being overwhelmed with joy after finding my lost treasure, I'm disappointed because I didn't get a stupid burger recipe? That green jelly-bean with one eye I saw in dreams was right. Karen definitely deserves someone better than a prideful, selfish loser like me._

Lost in his whirlwind of thoughts and shame, Charleston didn't notice the moment Gary started to get closer to him. His paws made little sound when they touched the ground.

Charleston only noticed his presence when he felt to cold touch of Gary's nose on one of his fingers. Charleston stared at the cat as it continued to sniff and rub his cheeks against the back of his hand.

Charleston frowned. He disliked the creature with a passion.

The cat had almost caused him to lose his headphones for good, he had annoyed him many times during the process of the bulding of the new, horrible-looking Crumb Basket, and now that he thought of it, Charleston realized Gary was probably also the culprit behind the mess of scattered crumbs and ripped trash bags he found outside his restaurant every morning.

Yet, Charleston couldn't find the energy or a good reason to be mad with the animal. He was too busy directing all his anger at himself to really waste it on anyone else, especially on a mindless creature that was treating him so tenderly and even purring at him.

"Animals are so stupid." Charleston commented as he slowly reached one hand towards his headphones. He pulled. This time, Gary opened his jaws and let go of them without any resistance. With his free hand, Charleston took his chances and scratched Gary on the back of his ears. Gary pridefully rejected his first attempt, but it took little effort to convince him to accept the gesture. "And so much better than people."

He thought of Karen. "Well, not all people. Just most of them."

He stopped petting Gary. The cat looked at him, confused and offended at Charleston for having stopped to adore him so abruptly. Curiously, he came closer to the man and made him company as Charleston inspected his headphones.

"They're very damaged." He said after a moment. "It looks as if someone has put them underwater and…they also slept while wearing them? Only I can do that! Who dared to do such thing?! I swear I'll find the idiot and end his or her existence! And look, they also bear the scars of your claws and fangs, you ignorant feline." Charleston scoffed at Gary. The cat continued to look at the headphones and patting them with his paw. "It won't be easy to repair them, but I'll try my best. In any case, right now I'm just happy to have them back. I think I haven't felt this happy ever since—"

Charleston felt a warm sensation on the back of his head. Next thing he knew, he found himself with his forehead slammed against the ground.

He felt Gary's claws scratching his forearms by accident as he escaped the scene full of fear and shock. He nimbly climbed up the fence and disappeared into the streets after leaving the alley.

Charleston saw none of this happen. His whole world had been reduced to the sight of his blood dripping like rain down to the dirty, dark floor.

"I got you now, you pest!" The heavy, strong hand on his nape moved quickly to his shoulder and forced Charleston to lay down on his back. He didn't remember seeing Slabs so angry in his life. Before Charleston could even attempt to run away, Slabs sit on his belly and rested all his weight on him. "You lost me for a moment, but you should know by now that you can never outwit me. That's your fate! Now give me back the secret sauce recipe before I send you to the hospital in a hand basket!"

"Get off of me, you savage!" Charleston tried to break free from Slabs, but it was in vain. He felt like a mouse trying to escape the paw of a lion. "I don't have it, you idiot! Let me go!"

Charleston moved his fingers and discovered he wasn't holding his headphones. Scared that Slabs would damaged them by accident, he struggled again.

This time, Slab's mocking smile vanished when Charleston almost succeed in shaking him off.

"You're not going anywhere, not until you give me back the recipe." Slabs threatened Charleston by raising his fist as high as he could while he held Charleston by the neck and kept his head firmly pressed against the ground. "You're pathetic, and it's only because I feel so sorry for you that I'll give one last chance, Charleston. Where is the secret sauce recipe?"

"Are you deaf? I told you I don't have it! Now let me go before I—"

"Wrong answer."

Charleston and Slabs had always been enemies.

They both knew that.

The whole town knew that.

Still, Charleston's surprise when Slabs hit him with all his strength right on his only eye was so extreme that it numbed the pain.

Immediately, Charleston felt how his eyelid became swollen.

"I'm not playing around. Not anymore." Slabs stood up and picked Charleston up by the neck as if he was made of feathers.

"You damn brute." Charleston snapped at Slabs. His swollen eye soaked with the blood streaming from the fresh cut above his eyebrow could only paint Slabs as silhouette. "I'll get you for this. I swear I will."

"I know." Slabs laughed. "That's why I'll make sure you end up in jail by the end of the day. I had other plans to make sure you wouldn't be a pest tomorrow at the beach…but that was before you made me mad and messed with my recipe and my kid's feelings. Besides, it's not as if anyone would notice you're gone. Nobody cares about you, and no one would miss you. Just some food for thought for when you are behind the bars tonight, Charleston."

"Shut up!" Charleston punched Slabs in the nose. His nemesis hissed in pain and covered his injury with his free hand, but he gave Charleston no quarter. Slabs began to bleed too. His blood escaped from the small spaces in-between his fingers.

"That…kinda hurt." Slabs uncovered his nose. It wasn't broken, but it was a little more crooked than before. "You've gotten a bit stronger in these past few days, I'll give you that. Sadly…"

He slammed Charleston against the floor. Charleston heard a popping sound coming from under his back.

_My shoulders? My elbows? My spine?_

It was a stinging surge of pain, as if he had landed on a bed of nails.

"…it's still not enough to defeat me." Slabs picked him up again. "Enough of this; unlike you, I have a successful, beautiful restaurant to go back to. Just give me back the secret sauce recipe and maybe, just maybe, I won't hand you to the authorities. It's not an easy promise to keep, but I'm a rational man. What do you say, Charleston?"

"Go to hell!" Charleston tried to punch him again, this time in the jaw. With the element of surprise no longer on his side, Charleston could only see as Slabs easily dodged his attack.

"Why are you such a stubborn, stupid little—" Slabs swallowed the rest of his words when he heard something falling to the floor.

It had come from Charleston's back.

He looked down, hopefully expecting it to be the secret sauce recipe, but he found nothing more than Charleston's headphones broken in half.

"No…" Charleston hissed. "Look at what you did! I had just gotten them back, and now you ruined them! Karen gave them to me…I'll always hate you for this, Slabs!

"Oh brother, just cut it out already, okay?" Slabs, who had almost felt guilty for a fraction of a second, recovered his mocking bravado. "You have no wife, and even if you did, she's not coming here any time soon to meet you. You think I don't know what you're planning? Please! You may have manipulated JimBob, Sandy, Patrick, Larry, your cousin Clem and even my own daughter with your idiotic made-up romance story, but I can see right through it better than through a glass of water. Cut the act, Charleston, it really makes me mad."

"You shouldn't talk so confidently about things you're not even capable of understanding, Slabs." Charleston dug his nails on his nemesis's forearm. "It makes you look like a bigger moron than you are. It's that bad; after all, what do you know about me and Karen? What do you know about love?"

_Good thing no one else is here hearing me speak like this. Talk about being corny and cheesy._

"I know more about love than any of you, and you know why? Because I failed at it. I tried and I failed. Experience teaches you a lot more than any stupid fantasies and hopes you come up with inside your head. You seriously want to lecture me about love? You? The man with the imaginary wife? I humored you about her until now, but it's getting really pathetic."

"Karen's real. Just because you have never seen her—"

"Even if she really does exist, she's no more real to me than she is to you. You told me you have never seen before, right? Well, now I'll tell you what I really think of it. Your relationship, if it's real, it's doomed to fail. There's no other way. This is not a fairy tale or the plot of one of the novels my daughter likes to read, Charleston. You know as well as I do that what I'm saying is true. Stop fooling yourself...you don't have to suffer about something so trivial anymore."

Gently, Slabs put Charleston back on the floor. He smiled softly, happy to see his words were causing the expected result on Charleston.

He felt no pride in ruining his enemy's romantic dreams, no matter how childish he thought they were, but Slabs hadn't had another choice.

It was only by breaking his spirit that Charleston would finally be willing to give him back the secret sauce recipe.

Once that happened, Slabs would thank him, maybe even give him a comforting pat in the back before taking him to the police.

It was the most sensible choice. That way, he wouldn't have to worry about Charleston at all, and he could even ask Larry to give him back his money for his no longer necessary services. If he hurried, maybe Slabs could still find him at the beach.

"Love is cruel, but it's only natural for it to be so. Don't take it too personal, my friend. You'll get over it someday." Slabs said to Charleston. Charleston said nothing; he was now holding his broken headphones, each piece on one hand. "Let's not make this any bigger than it needs to be. Just hand over the secret recipe and I'll act as if none of this had happened. Don't worry, I can come up with a good story about my nose, and I'm sure you can do the same for your eye and the cut on your eyebrow."

"No." Charleston replied without looking at him.

Slabs' good humor vanished. "What did you say?"

"You're wrong, Slabs." Charleston fixed his only, swollen eye on him. "I don't believe in what you're saying. My relationship with Karen is not doomed to fail! I don't give a damn about your own experiences; I refuse to believe in anything you have to say about the matter!"

"Are you serious?" Slabs clenched his fists. "Are you really ignoring everything I'm saying about the secret sauce recipe just because you can't stop think about your wife? You're even a sadder man than I thought. It's that bad."

"I'm thinking about my wife like I should have done from the beginning, but instead I…"

Charleston closed his eye and put his broken headphones on a safe place close to the wall. Though he could barely see anything, he became ready to fight Slabs.

_I'm sorry, Karen. I stopped caring about you, all I cared about was my pride. The new Crumb Basket…I didn't build it because I wanted to impress you. I wanted to impress myself. It never had anything to do with you, and now, the place is a mess…all because I was too proud to accept the help I obviously needed. I should have swallowed my pride and accepted Clem's and JimBob's help, if I had, you'd had a nice restaurant and a home worthy of you, and not the dump I built. But I couldn't accept anyone's help. I didn't want to. I wanted to show myself I was able to do something on my own, and all because of my stupid pride. Maybe that's also why I wanted to get the secret recipe so badly right now…if only to prove myself I could succeed at something. And now, look at how well that turned out._

_"_I'll think of my wife now and of how much I want to see her." Charleston cracked his fingers. "I'll think of her every second I spend giving you the beating of your life, Slabs."

"Suit yourself. No more nice, rational Slabs for you." Slabs punched his palm with a fist and cracked his neck. "I hope you'll still be able to think of your wife tonight and tomorrow as you laid forgotten behind a cell, Charleston. That is, if I don't end up putting you into a week-long coma."

"You talk too much." Charleston lunged himself directly toward Slabs with his fist ready to punch him directly in his face.

Slabs reacted immediately. Their fists met while still on the air.

_I haven't sent you a message in many days, Karen, and I haven't received any from you either._

Charleston's fist became trapped inside Slab's giant hand. It didn't take long for his other hand to suffer the same fate, locking them in a struggle that Slabs soon started to win.

_Please, tell me you haven't forgotten about me. If you did, I can't blame you…after all, I forgot about you. But if you did, tell me it was just for a few days. You have your own fights and struggles to go through. That's fine and I understand. Just…let's meet each other tomorrow, okay? I promise you that I wish for nothing else other that, and that I'll fight to make sure it happens…_

"Don't be mad with me, Charleston." Slabs said, so sure of his victory that he saw no reason to use his full strength when less than half of it was proving to be more than enough to defeat Charleston. "You did this to yourself."

_…_ _no matter how helpless it all looks for me right now, I'll make sure I'll find a way. I want to meet you. That's the truth._


	17. Fading visions before sinking

_**Thanks for reading and to Dreamer1920 for the review!**_

* * *

"Pearl, stop!"

"Uncle JimBob?"

"Please. I know you're doing this out of kindness, but you don't have the right to meddle in Charleston's affairs behind his back."

"I'm doing this to help him. I want him and his wife to be happy…I don't care about having the right or not. I'm doing this for love, and not just any kind of love. I'm talking about the love between a husband and a wife!"

"I understand. Trust me, I do; but this is not for you to decide. If Charleston doesn't want your help, then don't help him. You can't fix everyone's lives, Pearl, especially not when it comes to love. Sometimes, the more you help, the more you complicate everything …sometimes, you must let things take their natural course."

"I know, but I can't just stand here and do nothing. Not when I'm aware that my help, no matter how unwanted or unnecessary, could make the difference. Besides, I want to see them happy. I want to prove my father that love isn't… I'm sorry, uncle JimBob, but I won't stop. You can tell my dad about this, he'll find out about it anyway, but I don't care. Me and my friends are going through with the Crumb Basket makeover and that's it."

"Pearl…does this really mean so much for you?"

"Yes, it does. I'm not sure why, but it does."

"Then, I…I'll help you."

"What? But—"

"Maybe Charleston wouldn't want me to help him, but that doesn't mean you don't want me to help you. And if you do, then I will."

"But why?"

"Well, let's just say that you're not the only one that wants to prove your father wrong about that whole 'love' thing. Besides, you and your friend are doing an amazing work so far! It would be a shame if it was left unfinished."

"Thank you, uncle JimBob. Yes, it would be totally cool if you could help us."

"Just say the word! What do you need me to do?"

"Well, we still need more time if we want to make this place look anywhere halfway decent. You think you could find my father and Mr. Charleston and distract them a little longer?"

"Sure! Though that could take a while. They took off so fast…seriously, I don't think I've ever seen your father so angry! If I didn't know him better, I'd say he's capable of landing Charleston in the hospital. Hahaha! Wait, why am I laughing? That's not funny at all! I have to stop them before that happens! If your dad really hurts Charleston, then all of this will be for nothing."

"Oh…I guess I didn't think of that. I just considered that the easiest way to get my dad to run off after Mr. Charleston was to make him believe he had stolen the secret sauce recipe. Not one of my brightest ideas."

"What do you mean? Pearl, are you telling me that all that thing about Charleston stealing the secret recipe was a lie?"

"Yes. But it was a good intentioned lie…that counts for something, doesn't it?"

"Oh Barnacles. I have no time to lose! But first, I'll have to get the real secret sauce recipe from Mr. Slab's office. Otherwise, he will never believe me. Oh barnacles, oh barnacles!"

As SpongeBob went running inside the Trusty Slabs and told an uncaring Manward to initiate the emergency protocol, Pearl realized that maybe, just maybe, she had messed up big time.

"Good thing I didn't tell him about his cat Gary and the role he played in all this." She said under her breath as she tried to concentrate on the Crumb Basket makeover. "Wow, I'm really a deceitful mastermind when I put my heart on it, aren't I? That's definitely a trait I inherited from my father. It doesn't make me proud, but it's very useful at times. Oh well, nobody's perfect."

* * *

"Hey, Clem!" Patchy said with a wide smile as he entered the kitchen. "What are you cooking? Is it another of your family secret recipes?"

"Yes! How did you know?" Clem stopped whisking and stared at Patchy. "Can you read minds? Teach me! It isn't as hard as reading books, is it?"

"I think that would depend on how complex the mind you'd be reading was, but I can't say for sure. I'm just an ordinary man without telepathic abilities." Patchy said with good humor, though his jovial exterior didn't match with the dread growing inside him.

_I should be glad you're not able of reading minds either, my bumpkin friend._

Patchy thought as he stood next to Clem and looked at the multicolored, half-whisked mixture in the bowl. A deep growl came from the center of his guts.

_Because right now, all I can think of is 'be brave, stomach. Be brave.'_

"Telepathic? Now that's a strange and new word for me. I'd write it down, but I don't have a pencil or a notebook with me right now." Clem said as he happily went back to his cooking.

His messy, unskilled cooking that left the counter and the walls covered with stains that made them look like a dalmatian's fur.

"Do you even know how to write, Clem?" Potty sneered from the top of Patchy's hat. The pirate tried to slap him in the beak, but the bird was too nimble and fast for his hand.

"Oh, right! I had forgotten that I can't." Clem laughed. "Thanks for reminding me, Patty."

"It's Potty."

"No, thank you. I stopped using those a long time ago. I'm not a child anymore, I'm an adult!" Clem exclaimed as he raised the wire whisk up in the air, splashing some of the mixture of flour, root beer, sugar, salt, vanilla, beans, sweet cream and onions on Patchy's face.

"Physically? Yes." Potty said without even bothering to lower his voice. "Mentally? That's debatable."

Patchy tried to scold the parrot once more, but his tongue became paralyzed inside his mouth. "Oh Neptune, I think some of that dough got in my mouth. Potty, I think I need to get to the potty before I…"

Patchy covered his mouth just at the right time. He left the kitchen running like never before in his life.

"That's what you get for letting this fool do the cooking around here!" Potty exclaimed as he flew after Patchy. "I told you we should have ordered a pizza from the Trusty Slab!"

Meanwhile, Clem kept on working without being aware of the chaos he had caused. His mind was solely devoted on finishing his dish so he and his friends could eat together one of his family's most treasured recipes.

"The Salty and Sweet Root Beer Muffins. They have all the protein and calories you need to keep your day as colorful as a parrot fish! They're dinner and dessert mixed together in a single dish." Clem chanted the jingle as if he was a cook announcing his newest invention on his television show. "An original recipe from the Charleston clan! Wait, didn't I just make it up? No, I'm sure old grandma taught it to me…Or was it just dream? Oh well, it'll be delicious in any case!"

After a few more minutes of destroying Patchy's kitchen, Clem put his creation (though, had Potty been there, he would have deemed 'abomination' a better term to describe it) inside the oven. Luckily, he did so without making the whole house catch fire.

Not for the time being, at least.

"I think twenty minutes should be enough." Clem said as he set the timer, which had the shape of a smiling yellow sponge wearing a hat and wielding a spatula. "Then again, the more I leave it inside the oven, the more favor it will get. Forget twenty minutes, let's go for an hour! That'll spice things up."

Satisfied with his work, Clem put down the timer on top of the counter. "Well, now we wait." He knelt in front of the oven and stared at it as if he was watching his favorite cartoon. "This is so much fun!"

He would have happily continued in that same position until the timer went off if the doorbell hadn't interrupted him. At first, Clem ignored the newcomer, but when it became clear that whomever was outside wouldn't leave, he deemed it too rude to leave him or her waiting any longer.

"Just a sec!" he screamed as he was only a few steps away from the door. "Oh man, I hope they are girl scouts selling cookies!"

His hopes shattered when instead of group of girl scouts, he encountered none other than his dear friend James Robert.

But that wasn't what he liked to be called, and Clem didn't blame him. His name sounded like a that of a lawyer ready to take away everything you owned because you forgot to pay your taxes.

If Clem remembered clearly, James Robert went by as…

"JimBob!" Without further warning, Clem embraced the other man and lifted him off the floor. "I didn't think I'd see you again! It's been so long, like almost a week."

"Clem?" JimBob said as he gasped for air after Clem let him go. "What are you doing here? I thought you had gone back to your hometown. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad to see you again, but, well, after what happened with your cousin…"

"Oh, it's a long story." Clem shrugged and smiled. "You see, it all started when—"

"Wait! You can tell me later. I swear I'll lend you an ear, but now, I'm in a hurry." JimBob looked over Clem's shoulders. "Where's Patchy and Potty? Are they home? I need to talk to them now, especially Potty!"

"Sure, they're home. Don't worry, I'll get them for you. Wait here." Clem slammed the door in JimBob's face and ran around the house as he screamed Patchy's and Potty's mispronounced name over and over again. "Hello? Is anyone here? Huh, that's odd. They were here just a few minutes ago. Could they have vanished into thin air?"

Finally, just when Clem was starting to think that Patchy and Potty had transformed into ghosts, he heard noises coming from the bathroom in the hallway.

Clem knocked the door and stamped his ear against it. From what he could hear, Patchy was emptying his stomach harder than Clem did after a wild night of drinking.

Clem could also hear the parrot's voice. He was angry, and he had the worst potty mouth Clem had ever listened to.

"Uhm, Patchy? Patty?" Clem said after clearing his throat. "Sorry for interrupting, but JimBob is looking for you. He's at the entrance and—"

"Shut up and get out of here!" the parrot exclaimed. "Can't you see I'm too busy trying to control the mess you caused?"

"But what about JimBob? What should I tell him?"

"Get out of here you stupid, dumb animal."

"Woah. That brings back memories." Clem felt for a second as if he was talking to his cousin. Nostalgia made his eyes watery; then, casually and uncaringly, he added, "Okay! I'll tell him just that. It's a little too rude for my taste, but I'm just the guest here so… I'll do whatever you say. Good luck clearing out your stomach, Patchy! And remember, it's always better out than in."

Proud of himself for having completed his task, Clem went back to the entrance and opened the door. JimBob was in the same position he had left him.

"You literally slammed the door in my face, Clem." JimBob said after coming back to his senses. "I think I'm starting to see the family resemblance between you and your cousin."

"So…Patchy and Patty are here, but they are a bit busy for the moment. Emptying your stomach takes time, you know." Clem explained without realizing JimBob barely could grasp what he was saying. "They did have a message for you, though. They said…Oh darn, I forgot what they asked me to tell you. Wait here, I'll go and ask them again."

"I have no time for this!" JimBob exclaimed, exasperated by Clem's antics. He pulled and scratched his hair as if it had suddenly become infested with lice. "I need Potty's help! He's the only one with an eyesight keen enough to help me find Charleston and Mr. Slabs! I have to find them before everything gets out of hand and Charleston gets hurt—"

"My cousin?" Clem stopped looking at JimBob with innocent amusement and grabbed him by the shoulders with his big hands. "What happened? Is he alright?"

JimBob's nerves slowly calmed down, partly because of the realization he had been speaking out loud, and partly because Clem's nails were starting to dig deep into his shoulders.

"He's…he's fine, Clem." JimBob stuttered. With more confidence, he showed Clem a bottle with a piece of paper stored inside and added, "but I'm not sure it will continue that way if I don't find him and Mr. Slabs as soon as possible. Things could out of control because… well, I love Mr. Slabs, but he can get pretty violent when he feels he's been tricked, especially when it comes to anything concerning this, the secret sauce recipe. Don't worry, I promise I'll find him and stop them before it's—"

"I'll come with you." Clem said. His tone gave no place for questions or contradictions. "A Charleston never abandons a Charleston. My cousin may have forgotten this, but I haven't. Come now, James Robert, let's find him before he gets hurt. If he does, he probably won't be able to meet his wife tomorrow. I won't let that happen! Love must prevail!"

"Dammit, it must! It will! "JimBob exclaimed just as loudly. It felt nice to have an enthusiastic sidekick to join him in his quest. Sure, Clem wasn't as sharp as Sandy or as strong as Patrick, but he was determined.

Sometimes, that was all that it took to make the difference.

"Okay Clem, come with me!"

"Sorry Patchy and Patty, but family calls." Clem said dramatically as he closed the door behind him and discarded his dirty apron that read _'Kiss the cook…at your own risk'_. "The Root Beer muffins will have to wait!"

"But," JimBob said once his enthusiasm simmered down, "without Potty, how are we….it doesn't matter. We'll just have to think of something else. Let's see, maybe if we get on top of that billboard, we'll be able to see them from up there. It works for Patrick Man, so—"

"There's no need for that." Clem took a napkin from his pocket and blew his nose. Then, he sniffed the air as if he was a hound hunting a hare. "I know where my cousin is. I just have to follow his scent."

"Oh." JimBob said, wondering if Clem was serious or if he was just pulling his leg. "Okay."

"Yes. He is…" Clem sniffed again with his eyes closed. Just when JimBob was about to ask him if he and Patchy had been drinking, he screamed and pointed his finger toward the street that led to the beach, "…over there! Don't worry, cousin, we're coming for you. JimBob, follow me!"

He howled to the sky and started running so fast that JimBob had to try his best to keep up with him.

"Oh Pearl," JimBob muttered as Clem continued to guide him. "Please hurry and make all this count. I'm counting on you. We all are."

* * *

Slabs would win and Charleston would lose.

It was an unwritten rule the universe had created the moment their rivalry had been enkindled for the first time many years ago.

Some would call it destiny, but for Slabs, it was simply the only the natural order of things. After all, he was smarter, more talented and cunning.

He was rational. Charleston was emotional.

He was sensible. Charleston was senseless.

He was lucky. Charleston was ill-starred.

He was strong. Charleston was weak.

It was a cruel reality to accept, but the former always succeeded, while the later were doomed to fail, no matter how hard they tried.

That was simply how the world and their rivalry worked.

Why then, was Charleston proving to be so hard to defeat when Slabs almost doubled him in size and was thrice as strong as him?

"Curse you. I wanted to defeat you without making an effort, but it seems you're actually going to make use all my strength, aren't you?" He said to Charleston as he tightened his grip on Charleston's hands until he felt some of his finger crack under his palms. "This isn't normal. Hell, it seems Larry's training sessions really work! Maybe I should take one myself. If it really toughened you up this much, it'd transform me into and invincible killing machine."

"Don't be stupid." Charleston replied. His arms, though trembling without control, didn't give in against Slab's overwhelming strength. "I'm not strong because of that!"

"Oh, is that so?" Slabs laughed with cutting mockery. He could feel how Charleston's stamina was at its lowest point. It was only a matter of seconds before it was depleted and Slabs gave Charleston the beating of his life. The least he could do for his pathetic rival was to let him speak one more time. After he was done with him, he wouldn't be able to do that in a long while. "Then what is it? Don't tell me it's the stupid memory of your wife which is giving you strength!"

Slabs had meant it like a joke. He didn't expect Charleston to flinch at his words and his swollen eye to become so full of surprise and misery.

"No…come on Charleston, don't be so damn cliché! Really, just when I thought you couldn't get any more pitiful, you come up with this stupidity. It was somewhat heartwarming when you said you'd think of her during our fight, but you're taking it too far. After all…"

Slabs pushed his arms forward. He could feel and hear the creaking sound that Charleston's elbows and shoulders made as his one-eyed rival fell to his knees, barely managing to keep Slab's hands away from his face.

"…we both know that's nothing more than a load of sentimental crap. It's really getting on my nerves, so maybe I should just get this over with. Don't worry, all the bones I break in your body now will eventually heal, unlike your crippled sense of reason. I'm afraid it's already tainted beyond salvation by your mistaken and sickening perception of love. Consider this a lesson, my friend."

"It's not a load of sentimental crap." Charleston said. Slabs' mouth dropped when he watched him slowly getting back on his feet. "You wouldn't understand, Slabs. What exists between me and my wife…"

Slabs didn't have time to understand what had happened. All that he knew was that, out of nowhere, Charleston had managed to counter his strength. For some reason, Slabs' immense arms succumbed to Charleston's bony limbs. His rival managed to break his hands free from his grip, only to immediately crash a fist against Slabs' bloody nose, breaking it once and for all.

"…is more than your bitter mind and heart can comprehend!"

Slabs felt a surge of warm pain spreading to the rest of his face as Charleston continued to push him with his fist until Slabs' back slammed against the floor.

_What did you just happen? Did Charleston really…No, it cannot be. He's a puny, scrawny loser! How could he do this? Is this real?_

As Slabs tried to make sense of his situation, Charleston kept pressing his fist harder against his nose, as if he feared that the slightest hesitation would cost him the fight.

Without a warning, Slabs grabbed Charleston's wrist as if his hand was a trap enclosing its metallic jaws on its prey.

_I was careless…he caught me off guard, that's all. He didn't surpass me; I just made a small mistake. A mistake I'm not repeating ever again._

"You talk as if you knew more about marriage and love than I do." Slabs said calmly as he got back on his feet in the blink of an eye. His broken nose was little more than a stream of blood soaking his lips and chin. He lifted Charleston off the floor without an effort.

He wondered for how long Charleston could pretend his newly broken wrist caused him no pain. "I won't stand for it. I won't let someone like you, a man that doesn't even have the courage to meet his wife face to face, slander the knowledge I gained through a lot of painful experiences. Because that's what marriage truly is, Charleston. Just a bunch of disappointments played by two idiots and signifying nothing. You should thank me. After all, if I make sure you're in no condition to meet your wife tomorrow, then the two of you will be able to continue your stupid, long distance charade for as long as you want. I'd be saving you both the taste of reality you need but obviously can't deal with. I'm sure Karen would be grateful to me about this too, even if she doesn't know it. What a poor, deluded woman…perhaps you really are a match made in heaven"

"Don't you dare to talk about her like that! I'll meet her tomorrow. No matter what you do to me, I swear I'll meet her! I won't let you ruin this for us, Slabs!" Charleston eye, barely visible, fulminated Slabs with a glare of hate. He tried to hit Slabs again with his free hand, but his attempt failed after Slabs squished his broken wrist.

"No more talk." Slabs said.

He got into position and became ready to slam Charleston against wall in the same manner a woodsman lunged an axe against a tree trunk. Maybe six or seven wall-slams would be enough to knock him out and break one his arms and legs. Slabs inhaled a short breath of hot air through his broken nose. He would do it quickly and relentlessly, making sure to keep his squeamish conscience at bay by remembering Charleston's many impertinences against him. The worst of them being his manipulation of his daughter's good-natured feelings and the theft of the secret sauce recipe. He couldn't forgive Charleston for neither. Never. "This is how things must be."

"Karen…"

Slabs cowered. Charleston's voice had no traces of deceit.

It had come unfiltered directly from his heart.

_No, that won't work on me, Charleston! I'm not going to back down now! I won't—_

"Mr. Slabs, no! Don't do it."

Slabs gasped. He looked over his shoulder and saw his loyal fry cook standing at the entrance of the alley.

"JimBob? What are you doing here?" Slabs said in bewilderment. He was about to further question him when JimBob's companion, a man that was only familiar to Slabs, launched himself toward him like a rabid dog.

"NO!" the man cried as he came closer and closer to Slabs. "Let go of my cousin, you big bully!"

"Clem, wait!" JimBob chased after the rabid, savage looking man.

The scene became frozen before Slab's eyes. For a moment, he was only aware of the warm mush his nose had been reduced to and of Charleston's broken wrist trapped inside his fingers.

_Well, shit._ He thought, feeling tempted to smile at the bizarre nature of his situation. _This is not how I pictured my day would turn out. Not at all, not at all._

* * *

Cell phones were such a blessing for humanity.

They allowed you to send messages, call people all over the world, share funny images and videos…

And most importantly, there were the perfect sanctuaries for awkward situations, like the one Karen found herself into.

She had been staring at the broken screen of her phone ever since she got into the boat together with the muscular man.

_He has the body of a Greek god. _Karen thought as she discreetly glanced at him to watch him row_. His arms are so strong and big …No, stop! My heart already belongs to someone else! Be strong Karen, be strong. Think of something else, like…like of how cute your screen saver is! It really is adorable, isn't it? _

Karen's eyes darted back to her cell phone.

_Just look at that small green creature dancing with his computer wife—_

"So, are you and Frenchy…together?"

Her train of thought crashed against Larry's words.

"What?" Karen said, not believing what she had just heard.

"You know. Are you lovers? It's just that you two seemed so—"

"Enough. My love life is none of your damn business." Karen said as she looked at Larry in the eyes for the first time.

She could see how his face went from friendly to confused in a heartbeat. Eventually he looked away, his neck and cheeks crimson with shame.

"I was just curious. I mean…" Larry said as he continued rowing. "Oh man, small talk is really not my thing. I'm sorry, I'll be quiet now."

Karen's anger diminished when she heard the honest guilt in his voice.

For the first time, she saw Larry not only as a beach hunk she could secretly admire, but as a man that was just as bad as her when it came to small, trivial conversations.

_He made a stupid, nosey question, but don't we all when we have no idea of what to say? I shouldn't be so harsh on him, it's not his fault his conversational skills are not as developed as his muscles. His mesmerizing, beautiful muscles..._

"Darn, why do my thoughts betray me?!" Karen screamed.

She didn't realize she had spoken that last though out loud until Larry stopped rowing and gave a jump on his seat that made the boat tremble.

"Heavens, you almost gave me a heart attack!" Larry exclaimed as he recovered the oars from the water and continued rowing. "I'm right here! There's no need for you to raise your voice and scream to the seven seas."

"I was just…" It was Karen's turn to look away in embarrassment. She took a deep breath and looked at Larry again. "Look, I think we started off with the wrong foot."

"Tell me about it."

"So how about we just start all over again?"

"Sure, why not?" Larry gave her a charming smile that made feel Karen equally flustered and relieved. "We still got a few minutes before we get to the shore. I'll go first. My name's Larry."

"Hi, Larry." Karen answered with a forced smile. "Nice to meet you, again." _What is this? Small talk or the introduction of an AA session? Maybe awkward silence would have been the better choice…_"My name's—"

"Oh no." Larry stopped the boat and put his hand inside the water. Karen didn't appreciate him leaving her with her words hanging from her mouth. She would have opted to ignore him out of a wounded pride for the rest of their small travel if Larry's interruption hadn't had a good reason behind it.

And the rusted, empty cage Larry took out of the ocean proved to be just that.

"Damn him, I told him not to put these things around here anymore! I swear, he makes the sea looks like it's filled with landmines." Larry muttered as he forcefully threw the cage inside the boat. "He's such a stubborn fool! He will never change!"

He cursed a couple of times. His eyes widened when he remembered he wasn't alone. Swiftly, he bowed his head and apologized to Karen for his foul language.

"I've heard worse." Karen quipped, trying to ease the tension. "Mostly from myself."

Larry chuckled. It was a fleeting, weak sound, but it was enough to return him some his easy-going vibe.

"Sorry you had to see this." Larry said as he rowed, slower and calmer this time. "I assure you, this beach is a peaceful place. Most people here care about the ocean and the creatures that live inside it almost as much as Frenchy does, but some others…well, they are not as kind or sensitive. Especially him, the man behind the traps and cages scattered all over the beach and the ocean. His name's Sy, but lately, he's become rather fond of his nickname. I think it's Cy—"

One moment, Karen was happily staring at Larry as she only half-heartedly listened to what he was saying.

A second later, she was feeling the cold touch of water on all her body as the boat turn over as if a whale had hit it from underneath.

She heard the splashing noise she made as she hit the ocean before her ears became filled with the numbing silence from underwater. The saltiness of the sea stung her eyes and left a bitter aftertaste in her mouth

It took only a couple of seconds for the bag hanging from her shoulderss to become an anchor that threatened to drag her down to the ocean floor.

The idea of letting go of it swiftly crossed her mind, but she rejected it instantly. The little money she still had was still inside it, and more importantly, her beloved headphones.

No, letting go of the bag, no matter how heavy it had become, was out of the question.

Fortunately, she was a good enough swimmer to survive that little mishap without the need to panic. All she needed to do was to swim upwards.

Nothing complicated.

_I knew things were going too well. It was just a matter of time before something like this happened…but that's alright. It's just a little dive into the ocean. My clothes will dry and then I'll- wait, my cellphone! _

Her way to the surface had been going well until the memory of her lost device broke her concentration.

She looked down but could see nothing more than an everlasting blueness mixed together with a touch of green.

There was no trace left of her cellphone.

_No, no! __I can't lose it! I need it!_

Karen began to swim down. Rather than hindering her process, her bag now served her to quicken her descent.

_I need it to message Charleston and let him know I'm here! I haven't messaged him in so long…why? How could I forget? I need to tell him I'm here. I need—_

The lack of air made her snap out of her thoughts. Panic, a distant concept just a few seconds ago, became her whole reality when she realized she was trapped in a dangerous middle point between drowning and the surface.

_What am I doing? _

Karen thought as her lungs began to burn by the lack of fresh air. She put all her energy in trying to swim back to the surface.

_What am I doing?! Did I really risk my own life for a stupid cellphone? Talk about twisted priorities!_

To her own surprise, and despite her growing desperation, Karen's travel to the surface was proving to be a success, even with the weight of the bag hanging from her back and her tired body struggling to move forward.

_Just a little bit more. Once I'm on land, I'll just have to find another way to contact him. I'll manage…everything will be okay._

Her thoughts were starting to get blurry and scattered. She hoped a breath of fresh air would make everything go back to normal.

She didn't have the chance to find out.

All thanks to a heavy grip that grabbed her by the ankle and dragged her back down.

_A shark._

Her instinct of survival took over. Karen fought to break free from the animal's jaws. She wasted what little strength she had left in fighting back, but to no avail.

_This is real._ She thought as everything around her started to go black. _This is it for me…I'm sorry, Charleston, but it seems this was my destiny._

Before she faded, she looked down at the animal responsible of her demise. She didn't resent it.

It's not as if it had done it on purpose.

What she found was not an animal. The grip around her ankle didn't belong to that of a shark.

It was nothing more than the hand of a human being clad in a diving suit, whose helmet stared directly back at her.

_Frenchy? How could you? I thought you were my friend—Wait, no, you're not Frenchy. You're…_

Her thought remained unfinished, just as the echo of the man's laughter resonating inside his helmet remained unheard.


	18. Small details fade into the background

**_Hey everyone! Thank you for reading and thanks to Dreamer1920 for the_ _review! I hope you like the chapter!_**

* * *

"…and that's how I discovered that, if you believe it with all your heart, mayonnaise can be a music instrument after all."

The big simpleton with bed hair gave a charming smile to the camera as the man behind it arched an eyebrow. His partner, none other than the famous reporter that went by the name of John Elaine, looked at Patrick with confused eyes as he held the microphone close to his mouth.

"That was...interesting, good sir." John Elaine said in complete disbelief. "But what does it have to do with the question I asked you?"

Patrick stopped smiling and tilted his head.

"Question?"

"Yes! My question regarding your thoughts about tomorrow's Beach Palooza!"

"Ah!" Patrick clapped his hands together and looked at the camera with a stupid, confident grin. "I don't know."

"For the love of...Cut the feed, Perch! Cut the damn feed!" Elaine roared. He dropped the microphone and covered the camera's lens with his hand. "I can't take this anymore!"

He stomped his way along the beach as he muttered insults and bad words under his breath. Most of them were directed at Patrick, who happily waved him goodbye while Perch 'the camera boy' Perkins picked up the microphone and ran after his partner.

The camera resting on his shoulder threatened to fall each time his bare feet clumsily touched the hot sand.

"Take care, man from the T.V. I like your haircut!" Patrick shouted behind their backs before strolling away and getting lost into the distance.

"He's mocking me!" John Elaine spat. He halted his steps before taking his frustration out on a smalland abandoned sandcastle. It crumbled down without any resistance. Before he knew it, Perch Perkins was at his side. "He wasted twenty minutes of our footage telling us that stupid mayonnaise story...and I let him get away with it!"

"I thought it was kind of funny." Perch said with a laid-back tone. "The boss will not be happy about it, though. The ratings will go down quite a bit if we make this the biggest news of the day."

"Oh Perch, you negative bastard!" Elaine said with resentment. "Is it really so hard for you to say something comforting every once in a while? Something like _'don't worry John, we'll get something interesting soon!' _or _'it's alright John, I'm sure you career isn't the big sad joke you think it is!_'"

"You want me to lie to you?" Perch asked, amazed at the odd request, but willing to comply if that would help his friend snap out of his moment of self-pitying.

"See? You mock me too! How can a reporter that doesn't even get the slightest amount of respect from his cameraman expect to find juicy, interesting news to broadcast? How can my viewers take me seriously if all I give to them is a buffoon's tale about mayonnaise?"

"Maybe you could add a couple of chicks in a bikini dancing in the background." Perch snapped his fingers and smiled at his own great idea. "That would catch my interest instantly, no matter how boring the actual news were!"

"I like to think my audience and my reports are a little more dignified than that, Perch." Elaine gave his partner a soft slap in the back of the head and took the microphone from his hand. "Still, maybe I'm expecting too much from either...I just wish something interesting would happen in this boring beach. Something worthy of my audience's time."

"Something like a drowning person being rescued?"

"Yes, exactly!" Elaine exclaimed. "Just like it happened a few days ago with that poor fool that Larry had to drag all the way to the shore from the buoy. It's a bad thing we didn't get any footage of that, it would have made such a great—"

"It's happening again." Perch said with little emotion.

"What?" Elaine looked as the cameraman pointed toward a faraway spot in the shore where a group of curious people were starting to gather. "No way... Perch, you magnificent twit! I think you discovered the biggest news we've had in weeks! Hurry, let's get there before all the commotion dies!"

"The commotion or the person drowning. Whatever happens first."

"That's dark, Perch." Elaine looked disapprovingly at him as they both ran toward the place of the news.

"It's the true, though." Perch said, readying the camera and breathing out a heavy sigh. "Oh man, the dancing chicks in a bikini would have made a much more interesting report than this..."

* * *

"What in the name of barbeque sauce is going on over there?" Sandy exclaimed after catching a glimpse of a man clad in a diving suit dragging someone along the ebbing shore. "Did someone drown? I better get there and take a look! Sorry guys, but I have to go! The people need me!"

She dropped a big bar a metal from her shoulder. It accidentally landed on the foot of one of the men she was helping to set one of the last food stands. As the poor man gave out a high scream, Sandy ran toward the shore as if she was a lifeguard from a television series.

By the time she got there, there was already a group of people curiously surrounding the man in the diving suit and the person he had saved. Among the nosey group was Patrick, who watched the whole scene as if it all was part of a scripted act.

"Is this movie coming out in theaters?" He asked Bobby Bass, who was standing next to him. His attention was diverted to Sandy when she appeared by his side. She gazed at the incident with her eyes wide with concern. "Hi Sandy! They're filming a movie! If we're lucky, we can appear as extras in the background. I'm going to be a star!"

"They're not filming anything, Patrick. This is real!" Sandy said in exasperation. She gave her friend no time to reply, and in the blink of an eye, she was kneeling next to the drowning woman as the man in the diving suit removed his helmet. "Heavens, she's not breathing! Hurry Frenchy, we need to—"

"Frenchy? Please, me and that idiot are not even in the same league." The man scoffed, resting his helmet against his side and holding it with his arm. Sandy scowled when his green eyes became fixed on her. "The fact you mistook me for my stupid brother offends me greatly me, Sandy. It's alright, I forgive you. It's not your fault your mind is not as sharp as your tongue."

"Sy! But what are you—"

"I go by Cyclops now. It has more bite to it, don't you think?" He ran his fingers through his hair. "But enough of this. Step aside, I need to give this woman the kiss of life...I mean, some CPR."

"What? No!"

"Oh, so you want her to die then?" Cyclops looked at the curious mob and pointed at Sandy. "Did you hear that, folks? Sandy doesn't care about the life of this poor woman!"

The people stared at Sandy with glares of disapproval.

"How dare you!"

"Sandy, why?"

"Frenchy is acting weird. Maybe he hasn't eaten his breakfast yet..." Said Patrick among the crowd.

"I'm not Frenchy!" Cyclops exclaimed with uncontained anger. In his frustration, he threw his helmet to the sand as if it was a basketball. It landed with a heavy thump on the drowning woman's belly. "I swear, the next time someone calls me by that name, I'm going to—"

"Look Frenchy, she woke up!" Patrick lunged himself at Cyclops and draped one of his arms around his shoulders. With his unmeasured brute strength, Patrick made Cyclops turn on his heels. Cyclops lost what little color his pale face had when he saw how the woman had already spat out all the water in her lungs and was conscious again. His only solace was that she seemed to be too disoriented to truly put any attention to Sandy, who kept asking her if she was alright. "And she didn't even need you to give her CPR! What a great, heartwarming twist! This movie will be a big hit!"

"Get off me, you big moron!" With a swift movement of his arms, Cyclops managed to grab Patrick by the back of the head. He then lunged him downwards with a powerful swing.

Soon, Patrick's world went black as his head became buried in the sand. Some of the curious onlookers laughed at him, claiming he looked like an oversized ostrich.

"This idiot ruined my kiss!" Cyclops muttered under his breath. Even so, the words came out a bit louder than he expected. A few members of the curious group began to direct confused looks at him. "I—I mean, I'm so glad you're okay, lady!"

Without any reservation, he pushed Sandy away with one of his heavy boots and took her place by the woman's side. He grabbed her hand the same way a man does while proposing. "It's alright, you're going to be okay. I just saved you by using the old but practical first aid technique known as _'A helmet to the ribs'_. It's a bit rough, but quite effective, as you can see."

The crowd gasped in admiration and clapped.

"He's so unorthodox...and so handsome!"

"Oh Sy, I mean Cyclops, you're a true hero!"

"Marry me!"

"No, marry me first!"

"Marry us both!"

"Is that even legal?"

"Not the point, my friend!"

Cyclops laughed at his audience's flattering comments and waved at them the same way a celebrity greets his adoring fans.

"Thank you, thank you. Please, hold your applause." He said calmly. "This poor woman needs peace and quiet. She almost drowns, after all. Please, leave us alone now so that she can rest."

His words worked like a charm, and so, the members of the multitude started to take their own different ways, with some of them jealous of how easily that woman seemed to have stolen Cylops's heart.

"What does she have that I don't have?" Bobby Bass said with his eyes glistening with tears. "Nobody heard that, right? Good."

Once they were gone, Cyclops returned his full attention to the woman. She was still coughing and breathing heavily, but she seemed a bit more aware than before. Unexpectedly, she looked at him.

"Hello there." He said, placing a hand on his heart while still holding hers with his gloved fingers. "I may have saved your life, but I don't think I have introduced myself. I'm—"

"Frenchy!" she said with a delirious tone before cackling like a drunk. She freed her hand from his and squished his face as if he was an overly cute child. "What are you doing here, you fool? I thought you were dancing with the fish! What's for dinner tonight? Canned kelp again? Lord have mercy on me!"

She dropped her back against the sand as she kept laughing without control. "Look!" she exclaimed as she moved her arms and legs up and down, "I'm making a sand angel!"

"She swallowed too much sea water." Sandy said as she crouched by her side. "She's hallucinating. Hey friend, can you hear me? Don't worry, everything will come back to normal soon. Here, let's take you somewhere away from the sunlight."

"Mom, is that you?" the woman hugged Sandy without previous warning. "We haven't talked in ages! I've missed you! I don't really miss your cooking though...by the way, how's dad? Does he still disapprove of my marriage? Well, I've always disapproved of his hideous haircut, but you don't see me complaining about it at every chance I get!"

"Uh, sure." Sandy chuckled nervously as she patted the woman's back a few times. "Well, this could take a while."

"It won't." Cyclops said. After an enormous effort, he managed to calm himself and ignore the anger that being called his brother's nickname caused him. He searched inside his pocket and took out a small dial with a green, slimy liquid. "This will get her back to normal in a heartbeat. Yeah, it tastes horrible and it may numb her taste buds for a week, but it's still better than to listen to her sea water induced ravings."

"Hey!" Sandy snapped at him as she tried to stop him, but Cyclops was as nimble as he was strong, and she couldn't move as freely with the woman still talking nonsense on her shoulder. Before Sandy knew it, he was kneeling behind her back and holding the other woman's chin.

"Done." Cyclops announced. He got up and discarded the empty dial by throwing it over his shoulder. It landed in the sea, where it floated around for a few seconds before sinking like an old ship. "I usually don't like to waste my restorative elixirs on people other than myself, but we are all making sacrifices today."

"Why?" Sandy asked him as the woman slowly let go of her.

"Well, they're not exactly easy to make! And the ingredients can be a little... tricky to come by."

"No, I mean...why do you even create elixirs that cure you from sea water hallucinations?" Sandy raised an eyebrow accusingly at him.

"I have my reasons." Cyclops stated, slightly flustered. "And I don't feel like telling you, woman!"

"You're so weird."

"Look who's talking!"

"What did you just say?" Sandy stood up and faced him with her fists clenched.

"I said—"

"Goddamit, could the two of you just shut up?!" Sandy and Cyclops both looked down. The woman glared at them as she covered half her face with a hand and rested all her weight on the other. "Can't you see my head is killing me? And my stomach...it feels as if I had been hit with a fricking wrecking ball. If you're going to be so loud, go get yourselves a room! No one likes to see a couple arguing! Unless it happens on television...but we aren't on television, are we? So shut it already!"

Cyclops and Sandy backed away from each other, both embarrassed and offended at the insinuation.

"A couple? Me and him?" Sandy stuttered in utter disgust. "I'd rather jump off a plane with a parrot on my finger as my parachute!"

"And I'd rather throw myself into a pool full of hungry sharks wearing nothing but a stripe of bacon!" Cyclops retorted with his arms folded.

"That mental image..." Said Sandy with her eyes tightly closed, "...shall hunt me forever. Damn you, Sy. Damn you."

"I told you not to call me Sy! The name's Cylops now. C-Y-C-L—"

"Hey guys, stop fighting." Patrick said, resting each of his arms on Sandy's and Cyclops' shoulders. His entire face was covered with stains of wet sand. "We're on camera! Smile and say hi!"

"What?!" Sandy and Cyclops exclaimed at the same time. The woman sitting on the sand imitated them.

No one else but Patrick really knew for how long John Elaine and his trusted cameraman had been standing there, filming them in silence. To try to get an answer from Patrick would be a very long fool's errand, so they didn't even bother to ask him.

Instead, Sandy and Cyclops both smiled awkwardly at the camera.

"This just in!" John Elaine said after combing his hair swiftly with his fingers. "This beautiful couple has just saved a woman from drowning! Oh, such acts of bravery fill my heart with hope for the human race! Incidents like this serve to remind us that real heroes don't wear capes."

"Except for Patrick Man." Patrick added as he stole the microphone from Elaine. "That guy is great!"

"For the last time, me and Sy aren't a couple—" Sandy screamed, but John Elaine ignored her as he recovered the microphone from Patrick and directed all his attention to Cyclops

"Sir! Were you the one that rescued that poor woman from the sea's merciless grasp?" Elain asked him with feigned amazement while Perch fixed the camera's angle on Cyclops.

"Indeed." Cyclops answered with a smug smile. "I was on the area, setting up my fish traps...I—I mean, recollecting all the trash our dear tourists thrown into the sea, when I saw how the boat this poor lady was in was suddenly overturned by an incoming wave. I couldn't just let her drown! I risked my life to save her...and I would do it again! She is worth all that and much more."

Elaine, and even his usually stoic cameraman Perch, wiped off their tears with a handkerchief.

"What a story...what a hero!" Elaine said after blowing his nose. "I'm sure the lady has some words of gratitude for his savior! Excuse me ma'am, could you tell us—"

"No." The woman stood up. Elaine, Perch, Sandy, Patrick and Cyclops stared at her. None of them understood why she was acting so defensive, or why she had decided to wear Cyclops' helmet when she could barely walk under its weight. "And get that camera away from me!"

"Ma'am, don't be like this." Elaine asked politely as he subtly signaled Perch to follow the woman in case she decided to make a run for it. He doubted she would get far with that helmet on her head, but he had learned never to underestimate how fast camera-shy people could be. "I just want to ask you a few questions."

"Oh, you want answers? Well, answer this first." The woman grabbed Elain by the collar of his shirt and dragged him so close to the helmet that his face splattered against the crystal. "What sound will you make when I grab that camera and cram it up your—"

"As you can see, the lady is not in the mood for an interview!" Cyclops freed Elaine from the woman's grip and held her by shoulder. For a moment it looked as if he had whispered something to her, but before Elaine could ask him anything about it, Cyclops took control of the microphone again. "Don't worry everyone, this sour attitude of hers is only a result of all the sea salt she swallowed. She'll be a lot sweeter once she recovers from her near-death experience. In the meanwhile, why don't you all witness how Sandy rescues everyone's favorite bodybuilder, Larry?"

"What?!" Sandy exclaimed.

"Yeah, you see...it seems there is another person in need of rescuing. Unfortunately, I couldn't drag them both back to land, so I left him on top of the overturn boat. It was the best I could do. I'm not strong enough to carry him, and he was too unconscious to swim by himself, but don't you worry. I'm sure Sandy can still save him before he falls from the boat...if she hurries."

Cyclops pointed at the forgotten boat floating aimlessly in the ocean. Larry was still lying on top of it like a drag set under the sun to dry. A second later, he slid down and began to sink like an anchor, as if the collective weight of their gazes had pushed him off the boat.

"No! Larry!" Sandy went into the sea without hesitating. She swam faster than fish fleeing from a net. "I'll save you!"

"I'll help you, Sandy! Patrick Man!" Patrick screamed, jumping into the sea only to land on his belly on the wet sand. He moved his arms and legs as he spat a mouthfuls of sand from his mouth. "Almost there!"

"This just got so much better!" Elain said euphorically under his breath before returning his face to his fake expression of worry. "My dear viewers, what a cruel twist of fate! Will our heroine be able to save the redeemed ex-criminal? Oh, the tension makes my spine shiver! Are you watching this, Perch? Are you watching this?

"Yes, John. I'm watching it." Perch answered as he filmed a group of women dancing on a nearby stage as they promoted a new version of Kelp Beer. The cameraman smiled, his partner too immersed in his task of overdramatically narrating his report to notice none of it was being filmed. "I'm definitely watching it. And I'm sure our dear audience will be happy to watch this too."

Meanwhile, Cyclops and the woman he had saved vanished. Maybe a few people saw them running away from the overbearing reporter, but no one could really tell.

Everyone, even Bobby Bass, were too intrigued by Sandy's rescue of Larry to really care about or notice the woman wearing a helmet and the man clad in a diving suit that passed them by like silent shadows.

* * *

"Ouch! That hurts, you clumsy idiot! You may say you are a doctor, but you have the hands and the tact of a butcher."

"Quit whining. I'm only bandaging your head. You're worse than a baby getting his first shot." Doctor Will William said to his overly loud patient. "There, it's done."

"Took you long enough!" Charleston snapped back at him. He touched the bandages covering his only eye, pressing softly his fingers against it to see if he could feel it somewhere underneath the cloth.

"Don't do that, you'll only make it swollen up more." The doctor said as he slapped him in the back of the hand with a metal ruler. Ignoring his patient scream of pain and insults, he continued talking, "Alright Mr. Charleston, we're done here, you can go now. Don't you worry, your eye will be back to normal soon. Maybe in a week or two, if we're lucky. In the meanwhile, I'm going to give you some painkillers in case—"

"Two weeks? You can't be serious!" Without listening to the doctor's complaints, Charleston ripped the bandages off his face.

It didn't matter how badly Slabs had injured his only eye. He still needed it to see, no matter how blurry his eyesight had become.

How was he supposed to meet Karen the next day if he couldn't see anything?

"Wait, what is this?" With growing panic, Charleston touched his eye. "I'm blind...I'm blind!"

"No, you're not!" the doctor pushed Charleston back on the chair. He began to bandage him again, reluctantly but dutifully. "Your eye has swollen up to the point where you can't open it anymore. The more you touch it, the worse it will get, so stop acting like a child and follow my instructions! First, you are not to remove your bandages in at least three days. Second, try to rest as much as you can, both physically and mentally. You need to find a place where you can rest and relax—"

"Rest and relax? I have not time to rest and relax! I have so much to prepare for tomorrow...so much to do!" Charleston said in despair. "I'll only rest when I'm dead!"

"You are, without a doubt, the most dramatic patient I've ever had." Doctor Will William rolled his eyes. He secured the bandages more tightly this time, and even put a safe to make sure Charleston wouldn't rip them off as easily as before. "Besides, if I were you, I'd more worried about getting thrown into jail than a bad case of purple eye."

"What?" For a second, Charleston stop thinking about his injury.

"You heard me." The doctor continued while washing his hands. "You broke Slab's nose, for heaven's sake! And that other guy, that country bumpkin with the funny accent? He bit him harder in the left cheek than a rabid dog! I had to spray pepper gas on him to make him let go of Slabs! He left him with a nasty scar...one that, fortunately, I'm sure not many people will ever get to see."

"Who could ever be so blind that they wouldn't notice a bitemark in the cheek?" Charleston asked.

"You." The doctor slapped his knee and laughed at his own joke, much to Charleston's anger. "And I'm not exactly talking about the upper left cheek. I'm talking about the lower wards, if you know what I mean."

"Oh..." Charleston's imagination painted the scene with outstanding vividness thanks to his lack of sight. "Ew, I wish I could unhear and unimagine that!"

"Hey, it at least is bound to be great anecdote for his grandkids." The doctor laughed. He went back to Charleston and helped him walk to the entrance. "I'm sure he'll find it hilarious in a few years, but as for now...I wouldn't be surprised if he presses charges against you. He is not the kind of man who simply forgives and forgets. Who knows, the police might be waiting for you in the hallway as we speak."

"I see..." Charleston said, realizing too late it had been a poor choice of words. As the doctor laughed at his expense, he crafted a plan. "Then I guess I'll have to make a run for it...through the window!"

Charleston dashed in the opposite direction of the room. From what he could remember when the paramedics had helped him get to the doctor's office after the ambulance JimBob had called had driven him, Slabs, Clem and JimBob to the hospital, he was on the first floor. A fall so small could still be a bit risky, and the fact he couldn't see anything could complicate things.

It was a risk he was willing to take.

It was easier to escape injury from a fall than to outrun of the police.

"So long, fool! We'll never see each other again—" Charleston's laughter was interrupted when he crash against the hard concrete wall rather than the brittle glass of a window. "I think I broke something...everything."

He fell to the floor like a dummy that had just been used in an accident simulation.

"Sorry friend, but I'm afraid we can't afford many windows in this hospital anymore." The doctor laughed as he crouched next to Charleston. "We had another budget cut last week, and it was either getting rid of most of the windows or the dispenser machines and...let's just say we chose wisely."

"I hate my life." Charleston lamented as he laid on the cold marble floor.

"Yeah, me too." The doctor sighed, his voice suddenly turning serious.

"Like...you hate your own life or mine?"

"Both." With that, he began to laugh again. "But seriously now, you need to get out of here. You're not the only fool that requires my help, you know? Hurry up!"

"I'm not going anywhere." Charleston folded his arms. "And there's nothing you can do about it. You think I care about your other patients? Well, bad news for you, doc, but I'm not that selfless! Let them wait, I say! And if you have problem with it, you can go f—"

"For real? Then you leave me no choice. And there will be no free painkillers for you, you rude little prick." The doctor didn't listen to Charleston's ranting as he grabbed him by the ankles and dragged him out of his office as if he was a very heavy trashbag. He left Charleston talking with himself in the middle of the hallway before calling his next patient into his office.

"...and one last thing! Hello? Doctor?" Charleston straightened his back. He could only hear the faint whispers of the other patients, who surely were looking at him as if he had gone crazy. "That fool left me speaking to myself! How rude!"

He stood up and screamed at the door of the doctor's office. Or at least, that was his intention.

In reality, Charleston was screaming to the wall, much to the amusement of the other patients. "That's not way to treat your patients, you public service loafer!"

"Charleston!"

The sound of his name froze the blood in his veins. He jerked his head toward the voice, and cursed his lack of sight more than before.

_It's the police! _

His mind shouted at him, setting his heart in a racing frenzy. Guided only by his instincts and his hearing, Charleston started to run across the hallway.

For a man without a vision, his steps were surprisingly accurate.

"Stop!" The voice behind him cried. A second later, he started to run after him.

_I've got to get the hell out of here! If they catch me, then tomorrow's plan is ruined!_

"You'll never take me alive!" Charleston exclaimed.

"I said...STOP!" the other man said before tackling Charleston from behind. They both rolled on the floor until they came to a sudden stop after crashing against a wheelchair, whose user had been laughing amusingly at the whole chase, and continued to do so even after the two men almost make him fall.

"Finally, I got you!" the police officer said with joy. His voice was high-pitched, to the point it would have made Charleston laugh if it wasn't for the fact that man had also ruined everything for him. "I'm not letting go of you this time, cousin!"

_He got me. It's all over...wait, what did he call me?_

"Clem?" he asked with some reserve.

"Of course it's me! Who else could it be?" Clem chuckled. He then got up, pulling Charleston together with him before surrounding in a tight embrace. "I'm so glad you're okay! That mean old Slabs, Krabs or whatever his name is ended up not being a match for the Charleston combo! CHARLESTON POWER!"

Clem's embrace became stronger with each word he said. Though he could barely breathe and he feared his spine would snap in two, Charleston felt a certain amount of relief.

_I don't know why this idiot is still here when I told him to get out of town. Alas, it looks like I'm stuck with him once again, but hey, at least he's better than the police, right?_

"Oh, and if you're wondering about my voice, don't worry! The pills the doctor gave me caused it, but it will be gone soon...I think. They also made me a bit dizzy. Very dizzy..."

Without further warning, Clem threw up, much to the dismay of Charleston's back and the poor man on the wheelchair, who got out of there at the speed of a racing car.

"Oh boy..." Charleston muttered. "Why did I lose my eyesight and not my sense of smell?"

* * *

Unknown to Charleston, a man without a sense of smell gazed at him and Clem from the opposite end of the hallway. Standing next to him, JimBob held the bottle storing the secret sauce recipe as if it was a legendary treasure that needed to be protected at all costs.

"Look at those idiots." Mr. Slabs said with disdain as he held his cell phone on his hand. "One of them broke my nose, and the other left me with a scar in a place that's better left unsaid. What a couple of losers. It's alright, I'll make them regret it."

"Mr. Slabs, are you going to call the police?"

The question took Mr. Slabs by surprise. It was seldom that JimBob spoke to him so directly.

He looked at him with a smug smirk on the corner of his mouth.

"What? Would you have a problem if I did, boy?" Slabs said with mocking defiance. "Don't you think Charleston and his idiot cousin would deserve it? Everyone would be on my side, and rightfully so! I did nothing wrong. He stole from me and I defended my property. You can't blame a man for defending what's rightfully his! And his cousin attacked me without a good reason! They both can rot in jail for all I care."

"But what about you?"

Slabs looked at his employee with the same sharpened eyes he saved only for his enemies. He never thought he would use them on JimBob, but it was necessary.

He was getting out of line.

While it was true Slabs had always told JimBob he needed to toughen up and be more assertive, he hadn't expected him to act that way toward him.

"What about me, boy?" Slabs said with guttural voice.

"You didn't beat up Charleston because of the secret sauce recipe." JimBob gulped before continuing. "It's not the first time he gets so close to actually stealing it, not by a long shot; but it is the first time you beat him up so badly...it's also the first time you're so dead on about getting him arrested."

"Careful, JimBob." Slabs' face was so tense it looked as if it would crack. "You are a good worker and a good friend, but I don't like what you're implying."

"You beat him up because you are jealous of him, didn't you?" JimBob said, using the last traces of bravery he had left. "You're jealous of his relationship with his wife. You can't stand to see him succeed where you failed...that's why you're so angry at Charleston, isn't it?"

Slabs punched the wall without taking his eyes off the fry cook. JimBob flinched at the muffled sound of his boss's knuckles against the concrete.

Slowly, Slabs retreated his fist from the wall. On it, his knuckles left behind their mark.

JimBob trembled as if he had forgotten to wear his jacket on a cold winter's morning. Still, the fact he hadn't backed down was impressive, at least for a man as mellow as him.

There was also a look of defiance in his eyes, no matter how well hidden it was behind his fear.

It reminded Slabs of his daughter. She and JimBob had a lot in common.

Whether this was a good thing or not was something Slabs didn't like to think about, at least not for the moment. He was tired, angry and his broken nose cause him a lot more pain than he let on.

All he really wanted was to go home and rest, and hopefully, forget about everything JimBob had said.

"You know nothing, JimBob." Slabs said with his usual kind voice. He put his cell phone away inside his pocket. He looked at Charleston and Clem one last time before turning his back on them and JimBob. He kept on walking toward the stairs.

_Then again, neither do I, boy. Neither do I._

JimBob watched his boss as he disappeared from his sight.

"I am so fired." He said in a whimper. His legs gave in and he fell to the floor. He had been so sure that Mr. Slabs would punch him for his insolence that it felt unnatural to be free of any injury. "But I don't regret it. I said what I had to say...and even if what I said was wrong, I don't think that saying it was wrong."

He gulped again and sighed. He heard the tingling sound his nails made when he rubbed his fingers against the bottle on his hands.

He had completely forgotten about the secret sauce recipe.

"And so did Mr. Slabs." JimBob muttered.

He smiled.

Maybe what he what he had said to his boss hadn't been so wrong after all.

* * *

"It's done!" Pearl said as she and her friends jumped and screamed in joy.

Considering they had only had a few hours to work on it, they had done a remarkable job on improving the Crumb Basket. It was still an incomplete work, but it least looked like something resembling a restaurant.

Sure, it wouldn't win any awards for its design, but now it could attract more costumers other than cockroaches and flies.

"Well done, girls! Group hug!" Pearl laughed together with her friends as they did what she said. "Well, let's get out of here before dad or Mr. Charleston come back. Oh, but before we start collecting all our stuff, let's take a picture of us and the Crumb Basket."

"What? Hell no!" Jenny snorted. "I don't want anyone to see me near that dump, no matter how much we improved it. I have a reputation to keep!"

"Yeah!" Agreed the rest of her friends.

"Let's have the Trusty Slab in the background instead." Jenny suggested. "At least your father's establishment is somewhat respectable, Pearl."

"Come on." Pearl rolled her eyes, but didn't try to persuade her friends any further. When she thought about it more carefully, she wasn't so sure she wanted a picture with the Crumb Basket either, even less for a photo she would upload online. Her father's heart would probably break in two if she saw her taking selfies with his nemesis' restaurant in the background.

_He won't be happy with me at all when he discovers what I did._

She thought, suddenly feeling the weight of the consequences her little infatuation with Charleston's romantic love story would bring her.

_But...I didn't betray my father. I may have done something he won't approve of in the slightest, but I didn't do it to spite him, not really. That's how I feel, but..._

"Pearl?"

"Huh? Oh right, the photo."

Her friends gathered around her and put on their best smiles. Pearl did the same as she focused the camera, doing her best so that her father's restaurant across the street would look as good on the photo as she and her friends did.

"Everyone say secret sauce recipe!"

"Secret sauce recipe!"

The phone took a dozen of photos in a couple of seconds. Pearl and her friends got closer to the screen to see how well the photos had turned out.

"Hey, it's not half-bad!" Jenny said, happy to see the camera had done justice to her beauty. "I kinda closed my eyes though. Hey Pearl, let's do it again. Pearl?"

As Jenny looked at Pearl and the rest of their freinds kept admiring themselves in the photos, Pearl had only eyes for one small detailed that passed unoticed by the others.

Her father looked at her from the background of each photograph. His eyes were difficult to decipher, but they were enough to make Pearl's heart sunk to her stomach. She looked over her shoulder, half hoping and half dreading to see her father standing in front of his restaurant, looking at her with his eyes full of dissapointment.

But she saw no one, and only the flapping door of the Trusty Slab's entrance remained as proof that her father had been there just a few moments ago.


End file.
